THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Nick  when  a  little  boy 


STORIES  OF  DIXIE 


JAMES  W.  NICHOLSON,  A.M.,  LL.D. 

PROFESSOR     OF     MATHEMATICS 
LOUISIANA    STATE    UNIVERSITY 


AMERICAN  BOOK  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  CINCINNATI  CHICAGO 


Copyright,  1915,  by 

JAMES  W.  NICHOLSON, 

All  rights  reserved 

NICHOLSON,  STORIES  Or  DIZII 
B.  P.      5 


DEDICATION 

One  of  the  wisest  and  most  beautiful  acts 

related  in  this  book 

is  that  referred  to  by  Governor  McEnery 

in  the  conclusion  of  the  story  of  the  Gee  Place: 

"  When  Doctor  Egan  and  my  father  died 

their  sons  came  together 

and  agreed  not  to  prolong  the  feud  of  their  fathers. 
Accordingly,  the  matter  was  dropped  and  forgotten, 

and  there  are  now 

no  warmer  friends  in  the  state 

than  the  sons  of  those  two  good  men." 

THE  CHILDREN 
OF  THOSE  WHO  WORE  THE  BLUE 

and 

THE  CHILDREN 
OF  THOSE  WHO  WORE  THE  GRAY, 

in  pursuing  the  same  wise  and  patriotic  course, 
have  given  to  the  nation's  history 

ITS   MOST   GLORIOUS   CHAPTER. 

To  these  sons  and  daughters, 

NORTH   AND   SOUTH, 

this  little  labor  of  love 

IS  DEDICATED. 


550351 


PREFACE 

THIS  book  is  made  up  of  true  stories  about  Dixie — 
stories  of  people  and  conditions.  In  it  there  are  no  excesses 
and  no  fanciful  creations,  whether  of  persons  or  affairs. 
Its  aim  is  to  instruct  and  entertain  by  portraying,  simply 
and  truthfully,  real  things  and  happenings  in  Dixie. 

If  the  history  of  the  South  be  regarded  as  a  building  this 
book  aims  to  be  the  vestibule  thereof,  and  the  attempt  has 
been  made  so  to  construct  and  furnish  it  that  those  who 
enter  therein  may  be  incited  to  go  on  into  the  building 
itself.  Should  it  be  thought  that  too  much  is  said  of 
trifles  the  reply  would  be:  (1)  the  book  is  intended  mainly 
for  young  people;  and  (2)  one  has  a  lopsided  knowledge  of 
the  people  of  Dixie  who  knows  nothing  of  their  jokes  and 
sports. 

A  quasi  biography  of  "Nick"  runs  through  the  book. 
While  true,  as  far  as  it  goes,  its  purpose  is  chiefly  me- 
chanical. It  is  somewhat  of  a  path  winding  its  way 
through  a  forest  from  which  the  necessary  bearings  are 
taken  to  draw  a  map  of  the  tract.  Around  it  are  woven  the 
"stories  of  Dixie"  pretty  much  as  the  gems  and  jewels  of  a 
crown  are  entwined  about  the  skeleton  frame  that  holds 
them  in  order,  continuity,  and  perspective. 

The  white  people  of  the  South  are  generally  homoge- 
neous as  to  manners,  habits,  and  ideals.  They  sprang 
from  a  common  ancestry  and  have  been  molded  by  like 
means  and  agencies.  Probably  the  section  which  was  most 

6 


PREFACE  7 

representative  of  the  whole  South  in  1860  was  North 
Louisiana.  At  that  time  it  was  the  last  section  settled, 
and  its  healthful  climate,  fertile  lands,  and  abundant 
timber,  fish,  and  game  attracted  settlers  from  all  parts  of 
the  South.  It  was  Dixie  in  a  nutshell,  and  for  this  reason 
it  is  made  the  scene  of  many  of  the  stories. 

This  book  had  its  origin  in  two  suggestions,  one  coming 
from  a  northern  and  the  other  from  a  southern  source: 

In  the  early  spring  of  1913  the  author,  while  dining  with 
Dr.  W.  T.  H.  Howe,  of  Cincinnati,  O.,  attempted  to  en- 
tertain him  with  stories  of  the  South.  The  doctor's  ap- 
preciation of  the  narratives  was  such  that  he  suggested 
the  writing  and  publishing  of  them  in  book  form. 

About  the  same  time  The  Daily  Picayune,  of  New 
Orleans,  having  referred  very  approvingly  to  a  communi- 
cation from  Dr.  Van  Dyke  to  the  children  of  New  Jersey, 
suggested  a  message  from  the  present  writer  to  the  children 
of  Louisiana. 

The  author  wishes  to  thank  most  heartily  his  colleague 
Hugh  Mercer  Blain,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  who  has 
read  the  manuscript  and  offered  many  helpful  suggestions. 

In  retraveling,  as  it  were,  the  long  voyage  described 
in  this  book  the  author  has  been  accompanied  by  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  A.  P.  Daspit,  and  to  him  she  has  been  a 
cheering  and  helpful  companion, — a  motor  and  a  rudder. 
Among  other  things  she  has  often  reminded  him  of  the 
two  old  maxims:  "The  secret  of  being  tiresome  is  in  telling 
everything,"  and  "The  most  completely  lost  of  all  days  is 
that  on  which  one  has  not  laughed." 


CONTENTS 


I.  THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 11 

Cane  Ridge :  .  .  .  11 

Events  and  stories 19 

Good  dogs,  a  coon  hunt,  and  a  fight 23 

Nick  and  the  cardinal 28 

An  old-time  school 30 

A  hunt,  a  whir,  a  rustle,  and  a  stampede  35 

II.  THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 41 

The  Atlantic  slope 41 

Growth  of  the  colonies 45 

The  call  of  the  West 48 

The  westward  movement 51 

An  illustration  of  the  westward  movement  55 

III.  THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 59 

More  "elbow  room" 59 

Off  for  Louisiana 61 

New  Orleans  then  and  now 64 

Up  the  Red  River 71 

IV.  THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD.  ...     83 

Uncle  Wash  moves  from  Cane  Ridge ....      83 

Progressive  development 88 

The  Forest  Grove  School 98 

V.  THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 104 

Typical  of  Dixie 104 

Two  good  signs 105 

The  Gee  Place 106 

A  peaceful  and  prosperous  land 114 

Religion  and  churches 117 

Introducing  Oat 120 

Homer  College 125 

8 


CONTENTS  9 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

VI.  THE  STORY  OF  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR.  .  133 

The  irrepressible  conflict 133 

Nick  goes  to  war 134 

Camp  Moore 143 

VII.  THE  STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 152 

Minor  incidents 152 

A  fish  story 157 

A  Confederate  scout 160 

Stories  of  Oat 163 

An  interrupted  oration 169 

The   Confederate   Army   starts   for  Ten- 
nessee    176 

A  student  soldier 179 

A  perilous  adventure 183 

General  Sherman  and  Colonel  Boyd 186 

VIII.  THE  STORY  OF  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR 193 

Cheerful  endurance 193 

Closing  scenes 195 

The  fortunes  of  an  old  flag 200 

The  curtain  falls  on  a  scene  both  sad  and 

droll 203 

IX.  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 206 

The  remnant  starts  home 206 

A  great  southern  leader 208 

An  old-time  southern  aristocrat 210 

A  few  great  Georgians 214 

A  long  and  jolly  ride 222 

More  surprises 226 

The  Gulf  and  its  chief  tributary 229 

The  home  stretch 235 

APPENDIX..                                                      .  242 


10 


STORIES  OF  DIXIE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 
CANE  RIDGE 


A  long  time  ago  four  sturdy  oxen  were  drawing  a 
heavy  wagon  through  the  valleys  and  over  the  hills 
of  northern  Louisiana.  There  was,  here  and  there, 
the  semblance  of  a  road  winding  its  way  through  the 
forest  and  connecting  the  crude  homes  of  the  settlers 
who  had  entered  these  wilds  and  broken  their  long 
silence  with  the  ax  and  the  gun.  Uncle  Nathan, 
driver  of  the  team,  often  found  it  necessary  to  stop 

11 


12       THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 

and  remove  a  log  or  tree  top  from  the  path,  or  cut  a 
way  around  a  deep  and  rugged  washout. 

Never  did  one  look  upon  a  lovelier  land;  at  least, 
so  thought  Uncle  Wash,  who  rode  on  horseback  ahead 
of  his  wagon  to  select  the  best  route  and  lead  Uncle 
Nathan  along  the  way  of  least 
resistance.  To  him  a  charming 
feature  of  the  country  was  that 
it  was  so  little  defaced  and  de- 
filed by  man's  habitation.  There 
was  a  profusion  of  wild  flowers, 
great  and  splendid  trees,  and 
rich  valleys  separated  by  gentle 
swells  which  now  and  then  rose 
to  the  dignity  of  hills.  Springs 
of  clear,  pure  water  spouted 
from  the  hillsides,  and  numer- 
ous brooks,  fed  from  these  foun- 
tain heads,  ran  down  the  valleys 
and  flowed  with  a  cheerful  mur- 
mur through  the  land.  Along 
the  creeks,  formed  by  the  join- 
ing of  these  branches,  were  nu- 
merous swamps  varying 
in  width  from  a  few  rods 
to  half  a  mile. 

To  one  who   has  no 


CANE  RIDGE  13 

great  love  of  the  wilds  these  swamps  would  have 
had  a  dismal  aspect,  owing  to  their  murky  bayous, 
the  dark  shadows  of  the  luxuriant  woods,  and 
the  rank  growths  of  vines  and  cane.  Not  so  with 
Uncle  Wash.  Even  the  gaunt  cypress  knees,  which 
stood  like  ghosts  in  the  muddy  lowlands,  were  as  at- 
tractive to  him  as  the  graceful  pines  on  the  hills  or 
the  white  dogwood  blossoms  in  the  valleys. 

Two  years  before  the  scene  here  described  Uncle 
Wash  had  moved  from  Alabama  to  Louisiana.  On 
reaching  this  new,  and  to  him  unknown,  land  he 
thought  best  to  select  a  temporary  site,  and  prepare 
hasty  quarters  in  which  he  and  his  might  live  until 
he  could  look  about  and  find  a  choice  locality  for  his 
permanent  home.  This  had  been  done,  and  he  was 
now  moving  from  the  first  place  to  the  site  of  the 
second  one.  The  party  consisted  of  himself,  Aunt 
Martha  (his  wife),  his  little  children,  and  a  few  slaves, 
among  whom  were  Uncle  Nathan  and  Aunt  Kitty 
(the  cook).  Late  one  summer  afternoon  the  movers 
arrived  at  the  point  where  their  new  home  was  to  be 
established. 

In  the  center  of  the  new  locality  was  a  hill  of  me- 
dium size,  crowned  by  a  flat  tract  of  about  six  acres. 
The  east  side  of  the  hill  sloped  down  to  a  clear  branch 
that  flowed  at  its  base;  the  west  side  dipped  down 
more  abruptly  to  a  rich  plateau  that  extended  to  a 


14      THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 

pretty  stream  called  Cane  Creek;  and  the  north  and 
south  sides  slanted  down  more  gently  to  rich  valleys. 
It  was  a  wild  and  romantic-looking  place.  On  the  hill 
and  in  the  valleys  were  great  trees — oak,  ash,  hickory, 
elm,  pine,  beech,  gum — and  in  the  swamps  grew 
many  cypresses;  in  the  midst  of  all  were  growths  of 
ironwood,  dogwood,  maple,  .chinquapin,  holly  and 
witch-hazel.  Here  and  there  were  networks  of  grape 
and  muscadine  vines  so  dense  that  the  sun  seldom 
shone  through  them.  Large  reed-canes  covered  the 
valleys,  and  a  smaller  kind,  called  switch-cane,  ex- 
tended far  up  the  hillsides. 

Having  reached  the  end  of  their  rough  journey,  the 
movers  dismounted  and  began  hasty  preparations 
for  the  night.  While  the  men  were  feeding  the  stock 
and  providing  temporary  quarters,  the  women  were 
busy  cooking  the  evening  meal.  Although  only  hoe- 
cake,  fried  venison,  and  coffee  formed  this  frugal 
repast,  yet  seldom  has  a  more  elegant  and  bountiful 
one  been  so  thoroughly  enjoyed.  As  slice  after  slice 
of  the  meat  was  fried,  the  savory  odor  caused  all  to 
realize  how  hungry  they  were.  What  a  stimulus  to 
hearty  eating  is  life  in  the  woods! 

The  next  morning  Uncle  Wash  stood  on  the  hill, 
viewed  the  prospect,  and  formed  his  plans.  "I  will 
build  my  houses,"  said  he,  "on  the  top  of  this  hill, 
where  my  family  and  negroes  will  be  above  the 


CANE  RIDGE 


15 


malaria  of  the  lowlands;  I  will  build  my  barns,  horse- 
lot,  and  cowpen  on  the  gentle  slope  by  the  branch, 
where  the  stock  will  always  have  plenty  of  water;  I 
will  plant  my  garden  on  the  rich  plateau  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill  on  the  other  side;  and  I  will  have  my  fields 
in  the  fertile  valleys  on  the  north  and  south  sides." 

There  was  much  hard  work  to  be  done.  Houses 
were  to  be  built,  lands  cleared,  rails  split,  and  fences 
made;  and  many  other  things  of  more  or  less  im- 
portance had  to  be  attended  to.  ^ 
Among  the  most  urgent  of  the 
many  needs  were  houses  to  live  in. 
So  the  building  of  cabins  was  at 
once  begun.  There  being  no  lum- 
ber mills  in  the  country,  these 
dwellings  were  made  of  the  halves 
of  round  pine  logs,  notched  at  the 
ends  so  that  they  would  lie  close 
together.  The  small 
cracks  between  the 
pieces  were  lined  on 
the  inside  with 
boards  and  chinked 
on  the  outside  with 
a  kind  of  mortar 
made  of  clay  and 
straw. 


16       THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 

At  least  a  part  of  these  huts  was  first-class,  and 
that  was  the  roof.  Cypress  trees  were  plentiful. 
A  choice  one  was  selected,  felled,  and  sawed  into 
short  cuts.  From  these  cuts  the  sapwood  was 
removed  and  the  remaining  heartwood  split  into 
bolts,  which  were  rived  into  boards  by  means  of  a 
froe.  The  cabins  were  covered  with  these  boards. 
A  roof  so  made  has  been  known  to  last  "three  score 
years  and  ten." 

The  next  work  of  importance  was  opening  and 
fencing  the  fields,  and  putting  them  in  a  state  of  til- 
lage. Where  a  wilderness  of  goodly  trees  had  over- 
spread the  ground  there  was  soon  naught  but  black- 
ened stumps,  and  along  the  wooded  border  of  the 
bright  sunny  opening  was  a  strong  worm  fence  ten 
rails  high.  With  the  plowing  of  the  land  came  the 
blackbird  and  the  bluebird,  whose  merry  chirping 
seemed  to  be  attuned  to  the  bracing  odor  of  the  fresh 
upturned  soil. 

On  the  farm  and  garden  and  about  the  house  and 
yard  there  was  something  for  every  one  to  do.  Men, 
women,  and  children,  white  and  black,  worked  from 
dawn  to  dark.  It  was  a  hive  in  which  there  were  no 
drones.  All  hands  arose  in  the  morning,  as  Uncle 
Wash  ordered,  "by  times." 

Breakfast  and  supper  were  prepared  and  eaten  by 
the  light  of  a  "suet  lamp."  This  old-time  lamp  is 


CANE  RIDGE 


17 


entitled  t  o 
more  than  a 
passing  no- 
tice. The 
only  means 
the  settlers, 
had  of  ob- 
taining lights 
were  with 
pine  knots, 
lightwood, 

and  grease.  The  kind  of 
grease  most  used  by  the 
pioneers  was  a  crude  oil  taken  from 
the  fat  of  bears.  A  saucer  or  tin  plate 
was  filled  with  the  grease,  and  into 
it  was  dropped  a  cord  with  one  end  protruding. 
The  exposed  end  was  lighted,  and  served  as  the  wick 
of  a  candle.  This  outfit,  often  called  a  suet  lamp, 
being  better  than  anything  of  the  kind  the  settlers 
had  ever  seen,  was  thought  by  them  to  "just  fill  the 
bill."  When  beef  tallow  and  mutton  suet  became 
more  plentiful  than  bear's  oil,  one  of  these  was  used 
instead  of  the  latter.  In  the  march  of  progress  the 
suet  lamp  was  followed  by  "molded  tallow"  candles, 
and  these  by  "store-bought  star"  candles,  which,  in 
time,  gave  place  to  coal  oil  lamps.  The  latter  came 


18      THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 


into  use  in  that  section  soon  after  the  close  of  the 
Civil  War. 

A  smokehouse  was  a  necessary  part  of  every  set- 
tler's home.  In  it  meat  of  all  kinds  was  cured  and 
kept.  It  had  no  floor.  On  the 
"dirt  floor,"  as  it  was  called,  a 
fire  was  made  and  kept  burning 
day  and  night,  but  it  was  so 
smothered  that  it  burned  slowly, 
producing  little  fire  and  much 
smoke.  The  smoke  cured  the 
meat,  and  I  doubt  whether  there 
has  ever  been  any  way  of  mak- 
ing sweeter, meat.  If  you  have 
never  eaten  smoked  bacon  or 
sausage  you  have  missed,  ac- 
cording to  Uncle  Nathan,  "  de  nex 
bes'  thing  to  possum  and  taters." 
A  great  deal  of  salt  was  wasted  in  curing  meat,  and 
this  was  absorbed  by  the  dirt  floor  on  which  it 
fell.  Thus,  in  the  course  of  years,  this  ground  be- 
came a  very  good  salt  mine.  During  the  Civil  War, 
when  salt  became  scarce,  many  Southern  families 
dug  up  the  ground  floors  of  their  old  smokehouses 
and  obtained  enough  salt  from  the  dirt  to  tide  them 
over  the  hour  of  need.  This  was  an  instance  in  which 
waste  proved  to  be  "bread  cast  upon  the  waters." 


Nick  as  a  soldier 


EVENTS  AND  STORIES  19 

As  soon  as  Uncle  Wash  had  the  time  and  means  he 
built  larger  and  more  comfortable  houses.  In  front 
of  the  cabin  occupied  by  the  whites  he  erected  a  very 
creditable  residence,  and  the  cabin  thus  vacated  was 
fitted  up  for  a  kitchen  and  dining  room. 

In  the  course  of  time  other  settlers  came,  and  with 
this  growth  in  population  and  means  the  roads  were 
improved  and  the  streams  bridged.  After  a  while  the 
towns  of  Homer  and  Farmerville,  the  county  seats  of 
two  adjoining  parishes,  were  founded.  Uncle  Wash 
helped  to  plan  and  make  the  road  joining  these 
towns.  It  ran  by  his  home,  and  when  a  mail  route 
was  put  on  it  a  post  office  was  located  in  his  house. 
For  this  office  he  suggested  the  name  of  Cane  Ridge, 
and  it  still  goes  by  that  name. 

EVENTS  AND  STORIES 

Uncle  Wash  had  the  gifts  and  arts  of  a  good  woods- 
sportsman.  He  was  a  tireless  walker  and  sat  a  horse 
as  if  he  were  a  part  of  it.  With  an  innate  love  of 
trapping  and  fowling,  fishing  and  hunting,  few  sur- 
passed him  in  the  use  of  the  gun  and  the  fishing 
rod,  and  fewer  still  in  the  art  of  making  and  setting 
traps  and  nets.  He  was  divided  between  love  of 
fields  and  love  of  swamps,  with  the  greater  inclina- 
tion toward  swamps.  The  prospects  of  abundant 

STORIES    OF    DIXIE. — 2 


crops    and    abundant    sports    were 
equally  well  pleasing  to  him. 

As  to  manner  and  matter  the  fol- 
lowing is  typical  of  conversations 
held  at  Cane  Ridge: 

"My  dear,"  said  Aunt  Martha  to 
Uncle  Wash,  "the  meat  is  about  out, 
and  you  will  have  to  take  your  gun 
and  obtain  some  from  the  woods." 

"Can't  do  it,  Martha;  can't  do  it. 
Too  busy  now,"  said  he. 
Uncle  Wash  liked  to  be  urged  to  do  the  very  thing 

he  most  desired  to  do,  especially  to  hunt.    He  wished 

people  to  think  that  he  never  neglected  his  duties 

on  the  farm  for  the  pleasures  and  spoils  of  the  woods. 

But    he   did    not  fool   Aunt 

Martha;  she  knew  he  was  al- 
ways anxious  to  get  into  the 

woods  with  his  gun  and  dogs. 

However,   she   never   seemed 

to   doubt   his    sincerity.      So 

now  she  said, 

"I    know    you    are    quite 

busy,   my   dear,  but  neither 

you  nor  the  hands  can  work 

very  long  without  something 

to  eat." 


EVENTS  AND  STORIES  21 

"The  hands,"  said  he,  "are  now  doing  a  certain 
work,  and  if  I  leave  them  they  will  either  do  it  wrong 
or  not  do  it  at  all.  Really  you  had  better  feed  us  all 
on  scraps  to-morrow." 

He  took  his  hat  and  started  toward  the  door.  But, 
seeing  that  Aunt  Martha  was  not  going  to  urge  him 
further  he  stopped  and  said, 

"It  has  just  occurred  to  me,  Martha,  that  I  have  to 
go  in  the  woods  soon  to  select  some  rail  timber,  and  by 
going  now  I  might  kill  two  birds  with  the  same  stone. 
What  kind  of  game  do  you  wish,  large  or  small?" 

"As  you  wish  to  get  back  to  your  work  as  soon  as 
possible,  we  can  make  out  with  a  few  birds  or  squir- 
rels; and  these  you  can  get  near  by." 

"While  I  am  at  it,"  said  he,  "I  might  just  as  well 
get  enough  to  last  some  time." 

He  went,  and  in  a  few  hours  returned  for  Nathan; 
he  needed  him  to  help  bring  home  probably  a  deer 
and  a  gobbler. 

In  the  course  of  time  Uncle  Wash  had  a  number  of 
cows  and  hogs,  and  they  throve  on  the  rich  food  they 
obtained  in  the  range.  The  cows  were  milked  in  the 
cowpen  by  Aunt  Kitty,  and  there  was  enough  butter, 
buttermilk  or  "clabber"  to  supply  both  whites  and 
blacks.  Just  before  "hog-killing  time"  the  hogs  were 
"stall-fed";  that  is,  they  were  penned  and  fed  on 
corn.  This  made  the  meat  sweet. 


22       THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 


As   night   came    on   the 

stock    would     leave    the 

woods,    come    home,    and 

sleep  under  the  trees  around 

the  yard.     Even  some   of 

the    hogs    which    had    be- 
come   wild    in   the    woods 

would   do   this  to  protect 

themselves  and  their  young 

ones  from  the  wolves  and 

bears.    Some  animals  seem 

to  show  great  foresight  in 

this  way.     A  mother  deer 

will  leave  her  young  fawn 

in  the  bushes   near   a  public   road,   knowing    that 

bears  and  wolves  are  not  likely  to  go  near  where 

men  travel. 

One  day  Uncle  Wash  went  into  the  woods  to  look 

after  some  of  his  wild  hogs.     Just  as  he  reached  a 

bend  in  the  path  along  which  he  was  riding  he  met 

a  panther.     The  beast  was  not  more  than  twenty 

feet  away.  It  at  once 
crouched  and  began  to 
wag  its  tail,  which  is  the 
-  -  habit  of  the  panther 
when  about  to  spring  on 
its  prey.  Uncle  Wash 


GOOD  DOGS,  A  COON  HUNT,  AND  A  FIGHT    23 

usually  went  well  armed,  but  at  this  time  he  had 
only  his  great  bowie  knife.  He  knew  that  with  this 
he  could  cleave  the  animal's  head  if  he  got  a  fair 
chance,  but  he  did  not  wish  to  run  the  risk  of  getting 
such  a  chance. 

Wild  animals  seldom  attack  a  man  except  when 
driven  to  it  by  hunger  or  in  self-defense.  As  a  rule 
they  are  more  afraid  of  a  man  than  he  is  of  them. 
Uncle  Wash  knew  this,  and  adopted  the  hunter's 
method  of  cowering  the  beast  by  outstaring  it.  With 
his  knife  in  his  hand  he  and  the  panther  gazed  mutely 
but  intently  into  each  other's  eyes.  Finally  the 
animal  glanced  to  one  side  as  if  looking  for  a  safe 
place  of  retreat;  then  the  rider  suddenly  spurred  his 
horse%and  it  leaped  toward  the  panther.  This  so 
frightened  the  wild  beast  that  it  scampered  off  into 
the  woods  as  fast  as  it  could  go. 

.* 

GOOD  DOGS,  A  COON  HUNT,  AND  A  FIGHT 

Uncle  Wash  was  fond  of  dogs,  and  all  dogs  liked 
him  on  a  very  short  acquaintance.  He  would  walk 
boldly  into  a  yard,  seemingly  not  noticing  the  fierce 
dogs  that  threatened  to  attack  him,  and  right  in  the 
face  of  the  angry  animals  he  would  squat  down 
quietly  and  in  a  low  and  jovial  tone  say:  "Howdy  do, 
boys!  How  are  you  all  to-day?  Come  up  and  let's 


24       THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 


talk  it  over."  At  first  they 
looked  at  him  as  if  they  thought  he  was 
crazy;  but  soon  they  were  his  friends. 
One  of  his  sayings  was,  "You  can 
always  tie  to  the  man  that  loves  a 
dog."  Every  stray  dog  in  the  "  regions  around  " 
would  come  to  him,  and  he  was  never  known  to 
turn  one  away.  However  poor  and  no-account  the 
dog  was  on  its  arrival,  it  was  soon  changed  into  a 
fat,  useful,  and  "  genteel "  dog.  Uncle  Wash  was 
never  without  a  number  of  good  dogs — hunting  dogs 
and  watchdogs.  The  barking  of  these  faithful  senti- 
nels at  night  gave  every  one,  even  the  cows  and 
hogs,  a  feeling  of  safety.  It  is  mostly  in  pioneer  life 
that  one  comes  to  love  and  value  a  good  dog. 


GOOD  DOGS,  A  COON  HUNT,  AND  A  FIGHT    25 

Early  one  morning  Uncle  Wash  and  Uncle  Nathan 
went  into  the  fields  to  kill  some  coons  that  were 
destroying  the  young  corn  growing  near  the  swamps. 
Uncle  Wash  took  his  gun  and  Uncle  Nathan  his  ax. 

"Now,  Nathan,"  said  Uncle  Wash,  "the  only  dogs 
we  need  are  Rouse,  Bull,  and  Step." 

The  first  two  were  large  and  strong  and  the  third 
was  an  active  heavy-built  fice.  All  were  stalwart  and 
valiant,  and  eager  for  a  fray  with  a  coon  or  a  panther. 
Rouse,  especially,  was  the  hero  of  many  a  well-fought 
battle. 

They  came  to  a  point  in  the  field  where  there  was 
a  dense  canebrake  just  outside.  The  dogs  roused 
something  and  chased  it  off  through  the  canebrake. 
"That  is  no  coon  or  bear,"  said  Uncle  Wash.  "It  is 
a  wildcat,  a  catamount,  or  a  panther." 

It  is  strange  how  an  old  hunter  can  tell  from  the 
way  his  dogs  chase  an  animal  what  kind  of  animal 
it  is.  In  a  short  time  the  yelping  of  the  dogs  was 
changed  to  a  deep-mouthed  baying.  "They  have 
treed  it,"  said  Uncle  Wash,  "and  we  must  go  to  them 
at  once." 

They  climbed  over  the  fence  and  plunged  into  the 
canebrake.  Uncle  Nathan  went  ahead,  and  bent  or 
cut  the  cane  so  that  they  could  pass  through.  At  last 
they  came  to  an  open  glade,  in  the  center  of  which 
was  a  large  hollow  cypress  log,  and  in  this  the  beast 


26      THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 


had  taken  refuge.  Step  was  staring  into  the  hollow 
log  and  growling.  The  hair  on  his  back  stood  straight 
up,  and  he  had  braced  himself  as  if  for  a  battle. 
Uncle  Wash  patted  him  on  the  back  and  said,  "Sick 
'em,  boy,"  and  into  the  log  Step  went.  There  was  at 
once  the  rumble  of  a  severe  tussle — gnashing,  biting, 
and  scratching.  Poor  Step!  He  soon  came  out,  and 
with  gashes  on  his  head  and  neck  he  looked  up  sadly 
into  his  master's  face  and  seemed  to  say:  "I  can't 
whip  him  by  myself." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Uncle  Wash,  "it  is  a  cat- 
amount." 

Now  a  catamount  is  like  a  wildcat,  but  much 
larger,  stronger,  and  fiercer.  Nathan  then  cut  a  hole 
in  the  top  of  the  log,  and  it  happened  to  be  just  over 


GOOD  DOGS,  A  COON  HUNT,  AND  A  FIGHT    27 

the  animal's  neck.  Uncle  Wash,  hoping  to  have  some 
fun,  cut  a  forked  stick,  straddled  it  over  the  beast, 
and  threw  his  weight  upon  it.  But  the  cat  was  so 
strong  it  slipped  from  under  the  stick  and  came 
boldly  out  of  the  log.  Step  nabbed  it  first,  probably 
knowing  that  he  was  not  now  to  fight  the  battle 
alone. 

In  an  instant  Rouse  and  Bull  flew  to  Step's  aid, 
and  the  fight  was  on.  Round  and  round,  over  and 
over  they  went,  growling  and  biting,  scratching  and 
gnashing.  The  great  cat  slashed  with  its  long  claws 
and  bit  with  its  sharp  teeth,  rending  the  hides  and 
tearing  the  flesh  of  the  dogs.  But  the  dogs  had  strong 
jaws  and  long  teeth,  a  courage  that  knew  no  fear, 
and  nerves  that  would  stand  all  pain.  They  gave  a 
bite  for  a  scratch  and  a  gash  for  every  wound.  At 
last  the  cat,  getting  a  good  chance,  leaped  again  into 
the  hollow  log. 

Now  the  cat  might  have  been  killed  with  the  gun 
or  the  ax;  but  Uncle  Wash,  like  all  sportsmen,  pre- 
ferred to  see  "the  fight  to  a  finish."  So  he  told  old 
Nathan  to  split  open  the  old  shell.  This  done,  the 
cat  made  a  great  leap  to  a  near-by  tree,  but  before  it 
could  ascend,  the  dogs  seized  it  and  dragged  it  to  the 
ground.  The  fight  was  renewed  with  vigor  and 
ferocity.  Rouse  fought  to  reach  the  cat's  neck  and 
the  cat  fought  to  defend  it.  Rouse  won,  seized  the 


28      THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 

vital  spot,  and  sank  his  teeth  deep  into  the  cat's 
throat.    That  was  the  last  of  the  fight. 

NICK  AND  THE  CARDINAL 

Nowhere  are  birds  more  numerous  or  more  beau- 
tiful than  in  Louisiana,  and  nowhere  are  their  notes 
richer  or  their  songs  sweeter.  Many  of  them  come 
every  springtime  as  old  friends  returning  from  ram- 
bles in  foreign  lands,  and  many  others  here  live  and 
die, — helpful  and  cheering  neighbors  no  less  in  De- 
cember than  in  May.  Among  these  latter  is  the 
redbird,  or  cardinal.  Perched  on  a  twig  in  the  garden 
it  is  easily  mistaken  for  a  brilliant  poinsettia.  Alert 
and  erect,  graceful  and  strong,  with  its  martial  notes 
resembling  those  of  a  fife,  it  is  fittingly  known  as  the 
cardinal.  In  no  other  small  creature  are  the  lines  of 
strength  and  beauty  more  elegantly  blended.  It  is  a 
friend  to  the  farmer  and  an  ornament  to  the  field 
and  forest,  and  its  destruction  should  be  prevented 
by  custom  as  well  as  by  law.  It  would  seem  that 
no  one  would  wish  to  destroy  a  thing  so  pretty,  so 
harmless,  and  so  useful.  But  consideration  for  a 
bird  from  a  boy!  One  might  as  well  look  for  mercy 
in  a  pack  of  hounds  pursuing  a  fox. 

Nick  was  no  exceptional  boy.  He  had  seen  his 
father  (Uncle  Wash)  make  coops  and  traps  and 


NICK  AND  THE  CARDINAL 


catch  quails  and  tur- 
keys in  them.  So  when 
he  was  seven  years 
old  he  made  a  trap 
without  any  help,  and 
set  it  in  a  brier  patch 
where  many  small 
birds  were  in  the  habit 
of  going  every  day. 
One  morning,  going 
quietly  to  it,  he  peeped  over 
the  weeds  and,  oh! — there  was  a 

-  **•  r 

redbird  in  it.  His  heart  beat  for 
joy.  He  slipped  his  hand  under  the  trap  and  seized 
the  bird.  Maybe  he  did  not  know  that  a  cardinal 
can  bite,  and  bite  hard;  but  he  soon  found  it  out. 
When  he  caught  the  bird  it  seized  his  finger  with  its 
strong  bill.  But  one  thing  sure,  Nick  was  not  going 
to  let  the  bird  go.  He  thought  too  much  of  the 
cardinal  for  that.  With  his  left  hand  he  pulled  the 
bird  loose  from  the  other  hand.  Now  the  cardinal, 
plucky  soldier  that  he  is,  resolved  that  if  he  must  die 
he  would  die  fighting.  As  fast  as  Nick  pulled  him 
loose  from  one  hand  he  grabbed  the  other.  This 
grabbing  and  pulling  went  on  so  fast  it  looked  as  if 
Nick  was  pulling  candy.  At  last  the  boy  got  the 
cardinal  by  the  head  and  clutched  it  so  hard  that,  as 


30      THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 

Nick  said,  "the  mouth  could  not  come  open."  The 
blood  was  oozing  from  the  scratches  on  Nick's  fingers, 
and  when  he  reached  home  his  hands  and  the  cardinal 
were  pretty  much  of  the  same  color. 


AN  OLD-TIME  SCHOOL 

For  a  long  time  there  was  no  school  or  church  near 
Cane  Ridge.  In  the  course  of  time  the  settlers 
thought  there  were  enough  of  them  to  erect  a  building 
that  would  answer  for  both  a  church  and  a  school. 
The  spot  chosen  for  it  was  about  one  mile  east  of 
Cane  Ridge.  The  house  was  made  of  round  pine 
logs,  and  the  pulpit  and  floor  of  heavy  slabs  hewn 


AN  OLD-TIME  SCHOOL  31 

with  a  broadax.  There  was  a  wide  slab  of  the  same 
kind  fastened  to  the  walls,  all  around,  to  answer  the 
purpose  of  desks,  on  which  the  pupils  were  taught  to 
write,  using  pens  made  of  goose  quills.  The  seats 
were  the  halves  of  round  logs  with  four  pegs  for  legs, 
the  flat  side  forming  the  top.  There  were  no  desks  or 
blackboards. 

When  Nick  started  to  this  school,  a  man  having  a 
squint,  whom  the  boys  called  "Cross-eyed  Bill,"  was 
the  teacher.  Speaking  of  the  course  of  study  a  wag 
said,  "It  is  made  up  of  spelling,  reading,  writing, 
ciphering,  and  flogging."  Cross-eyed  Bill  always 
kept  on  hand  a  good  supply  of  switches — chinquapin 
for  the  girls  and  hickory  for  the  boys.  The  patrons 
measured  the  merits  of  the  school  very  largely  by 
the  number  of  boys  and  girls  that  got  "licked"  every 
day.  One  night  when  Dick  Williams  reached  home 
his  father  asked,  "Dick,  how  many  uv  em  got  licked 
to-day?" 

"  Jes  three  boys  and  two  gals,"  said  Dick. 

" 'T won't  do,"  said  the  old  man,  "'twon't  do;  de 
dis'pline  of  de  school  is  givin'  way;  de  Board  will  have 
to  look  into  it." 

Among  the  textbooks  used  were  Webster's  blue- 
back  speller  and  Smiley 's  arithmetic.  One  of  the 
"practical"  subjects  of  the  latter  was  "Barter  and 
Trade."  A  problem  like  the  following  was  thought 


32       THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 


to  be  very  practical:  A  farmer  bought  500  yards  of 
cottonade  at  5^  cents  a  yard  and  agreed  to  pay  for 
it  with  fox  hides  at  $2.50  per  hide;  how  many  hides 
did  it  take?  Another  noted  section  of  arithmetic  was 
the  "Rule  of  Three."  It  was  commonly  believed 
that  any  "sum"  (problem)  could  be  "worked" 
(solved)  by  this  rule,  yet  scarcely  one  in  a  hundred 
could  solve  anything  by  it.  One  of  the  patrons  said, 
"I  would  never  let  a  son  of  mine  go  beyond  the  rule 
of  three,  for  I  have  never  seen  a  boy  do  so  that 
did  not  take  the  big  head." 

Near  the  door  was  a  bucket  of  water,  and  above 
it  hung  a  gourd  dipper.  Standing  in  the  doorway 
and  pretending  to  drink  water  gave  the  students 
a  chance  and  an  excuse  to  get  a  good  view  of 

anyone  passing  along 
the  public  road,  a  sight 
that  was  sought  as 
one  of  unfailing  inter- 
est. Hence,  the  sound 
of  an  approaching 
horse,  buggy,  or  wagon 
was  the  pretext  for  a 
number  of  boys  and 
girls  to  become  very 
thirsty  and  rush  for 
the  bucket. 


AN  OLD-TIME  SCHOOL 


33 


Of  all  the  problems  the  boys  had  to  solve  none 
gave  them  more  concern  than  trying  to  "cipher  out" 
when  Cross-eyed  Bill  was  looking  at 
them.  You  see,  one  of  his  eyes 
looked  one  way  and  the  other  an- 
other way,  and  many  a  poor  boy  got 
into  trouble  by  looking  at  the  wrong 
eye. 

Most  of  the  boys  prided  them- 
selves in  being  good  spitters.     They 
had  a  way  of  spitting  between  two 
fingers   pressed    against   their  lips. 
The  targets  on  which  they  practiced 
and  exploited  their  skill  were  flies 
crawling   on    the   floor,   and    at    a 
range  of   six  feet  or    less  they  were    pretty  "sho'< 
shots."     One  day  Clay  Harper  said  to  his  mother, 
"Ma,  Nick  can't  spell  much,  but  he  sho'  can  cipher 
and  spit." 

The  signal  for  "taking  in  school"  was  a  series  of 
loud  blows  with  a  heavy  stick  on  the  shutter  of  a 
door  or  window;  and  for  "turning  out  school"  the 
master  simply  said,  "Dismissed."  When  the  school 
was  dismissed  for  the  dinner  recess,  the  students 
seized  their  buckets,  bottles,  and  baskets  and  rushed 
for  the  campus.  On  hot  summer  days  they  usually 
took  their  places  in  groups  under  shady  trees,  some 


34      THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 

sitting  on  logs  and  others  half  reclining  on  the  grass 
or  leaves.  Without  any  regard  for  rules  or  ceremony, 
they  at  once  began  to  respond  to  the  demands  of 
hunger,  each  family  eating  its  own  food.  At  first  it 
was  much  eating  and  little  talking,  but  as  the  dinner 
progressed  there  was  less  of  the  first  and  more  of  the 
other. 

These  children  of  the  woods  had  had  but  little 
training  in  the  niceties  of  cultured  life,  yet  in  morals 
and  manners  they  had  a  code  which  was  not  without 
merit.  For  instance,  while  one  of  them  was  talking 
the  others  were  quiet  and  attentive.  They  were 
quick  to  see  the  funny  side  of  a  situation,  and  there- 
fore, as  a  rule,  enjoyed  a  joke  whether  they  were  the 
jokers  or  the  joked.  Their  jokes,  stories,  and  sallies  of 
wit  were  mostly  of  personal  events,  of  which  the 
following  are  fair  samples: 

The  boys,  with  few  exceptions,  went  barefooted. 
On  one  occasion  John  T.  was  lying  on  his  back  with 
his  bare  feet  resting  on  a  log.  "John,"  said  one  of 
the  boys,  "you  have  the  longest  heels  of  any  boy  I 
ever  saw."  "Why,"  said  another,  "the  most  of  his 
foot  is  behind."  "Yes,"  drawled  John,  "I  was 
nearly  two  years  old  before  they  all  knew  which  way 
I  was  going  to  walk." 

Henry  S.  was  known  as  a  "big  eater,"  and  he 
gloried  in  the  distinction.  After  "cleaning  out"  his 


A  HUNT  AND  A  STAMPEDE  35 

basket,  about  which  the  boys  were  joking  him,  he  told 
this  story  on  himself:  "I  went  to  a  barbecue  the 
other  day,  and  they  had  a  mighty  sight  of  good  grub; 
I  won't  say  how  much  I  et,  but  this  I  will  say,  when 
I  mounted  old  Bedford  to  go  home  he  kicked  up  with 
me  because  he  thought  he  was  toting  double." 

Miss  Josephine  M.  was  a  small  and  somewhat  de- 
formed old-young  lady.  She  was  very  bright  and 
quite  thorough  in  all  her  studies  except  arithmetic. 
"Miss  Joe,"  said  her  friend  Tom,  "I  have  often  won- 
dered what  caused  you  to  be  bent  and  twisted  up  as 
you  are,"  referring  to  her  deformities.  "  Well,  I  don't 
mind  telling  you,"  said  she;  "I  got  tangled  up  this 
way  studying  fractions  in  arithmetic." 

However,  it  ill  becomes  one  nowadays  to  speak 
lightly  of,  or  undervalue  that  old-time  school.  With 
all  its  follies  and  excesses  it  had  its  good  points  and 
served  its  day  and  time  in  some  useful  ways.  In  any 
event,  we  should  not  kick  the  cradle  that  rocked  us  in 
our  infancy,  although  we  may  decline  to  lie  in  it  again. 

A  HUNT,  A  WHIR,  A  RUSTLE  AND  A  STAMPEDE 

Uncle  Wash  and  Uncle  Nathan  went  out  early  one 
morning  to  hunt  for  a  wild  turkey.  They  reached  the 
swamp  just  before  daybreak,  the  hour  when  all  the 
woods  are  still.  It  was  the  lull  between  the  night  and 

STORIES   OF   DIXIE. — 3 


36       THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 


the  day's  toils  and  songs.  The  owl  had  hushed  its 
hooting,  the  frog  its  croaking,  and  the  whippoorwill 
its  plaintive  piping,  while  the  sparrow,  the  lark  and 
the  bluejay  had  not  yet  begun  their  morning  carols. 
A  little  while  since,  myriads  of  insects  were  droning, 
and  soon  as  many  more  would  raise  their  humming 
chorus.  This,  the  darkest  hour  of  the  night,  is,  in 
the  woods,  the  calmest  of  the  twenty-four. 

On  this  occasion  the  silence  was  broken  only  by  a 
gobbler  who  was  making  the  welkin  ring  by  his 
peculiar  song,  if  song  it  be.  It  is  probably  so  called 
by  those  who  like  Turkish  music!  The  hunters  ap- 
proached the  gobbler  cautiously,  and  stopped  a 
hundred  yards  or  so  from  its  position. 

"Now,  Nathan,"  said  Uncle 
Wash,  "you  squat  down  here 
in  the  cane  and  bushes,  and 
go  to  yelping  as  clearly, 
smoothly,  and  loudly  as  you 
can;  I  will  go  some  distance 
towards  the  turkey,  hide 
myself,  and  await  his  com- 
ing." 

But  Uncle  Nathan  was 
scary  and  had  a  great  horror 
of  being  stationed  in  such  a 
dark  and  dismal  place  all  by 


A  HUNT  AND  A  STAMPEDE 


37 


himself,  knowing,  too, 
that  bears  and  other 
fierce  beasts  prowled  in 
the  swamp. 

"Maree  Wash,"  said 
he,  "might'n  I  go  long 
wi'  you  and  do  de  yel- 
pin'?" 

"Look  here,  Nathan,"  said 
Uncle  Wash,  "if  you  are  going 
to  be  scared  we  might  as  well  quit 
right  now,  for  no  excited  man  can  do 
good  yelping.  A  turkey  is  the  hardest  thing  in  the 
woods  to  fool,  and  he  will  detect  the  least  tremor  or 
false  note  in  your  yelping,  and  fly  away  at  once.  I 
shall  be  only  a  few  steps  off,  and  nothing  is  going  to 
hurt  you." 

They  took  their  positions;  Uncle  Nathan  began  to 
yelp  nicely;  the  gobbler  drew  nearer;  and  everything 
promised  well,  except  for  the  turkey.  But  "the 
best  laid  schemes  'o  mice  an'  men  gang  aft  a-gley." 
As  often  happens,  the  unexpected  occurred.  In  a 
very  short  time  the  stillness  of  the  woods  was  changed 
into  an  uproar.  It  all  came  about  by  another  party, 
on  a  similar  mission,  entering  upon  the  scene.  A 
wildcat,  likewise  in  pursuit  of  food,  was  prowling  in 
these  woods,  and  hearing  what  he  took  to  be  the 


38       THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 

yelping  of  a  turkey,  he  turned  his  attention  and  his 
activities  in  that  direction.  If  you  have  ever  seen  a 
house  cat  creep  up  on  a  bird,  you  have  some  idea  of 
the  stealthy  and  crafty  manner  in  which  the  great 
woods  cat  advanced  upon  poor  Uncle  Nathan. 

Having  gone  as  near  to  its  victim  as  it  pleased,  the 
active  beast  leaped  into  the  cane  that  screened  the 
yelper,  lit  on  Uncle  Nathan,  and  began  some  surgical 
operations  on  his  back.  It  did  not  take 
Uncle  Nathan  long  to  get  busy.  The  first 
act  of  his  performance  was  to  give  a  yell 
that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  Cher- 
okee Indian.  The  negro  and  the  cat  at 
once  saw  their  mistakes — the  one  in 
coaxing  and  the  other  in  assaulting  the 
wrong  kind  of  turkey.  Both  were  sur- 
prised and  terrified,  and,  as  soon  as  they 
could  untangle  themselves,  they  began 
to  part  company. 

Three  distinct  com- 
motions followed  Uncle 
Nathan's  yell.  The  first 
was  a  whir  up  through 
the  air;  this  was  made  by 
the  gobbler  as  he  winged 
his  flight  to  parts  un- 
known. The  second  was 


A  HUNT  AND  A  STAMPEDE 


39 


a  rustle  down  through  the 
swamp  towards  a  cane- 
brake;  that  was  made  by 
the  cat.  The  third  was  a 
stampede  up  through  the 
swamp  in  the  direction  of  the  house;  this  was  made  by 
Uncle  Nathan.  Uncle  Wash,  having  heard  the  yell 
and  the  commotion,  and  being  an  old  hunter,  at  once 
took  in  the  situation,  and  having  a  keen  sense  of 
humor  he  laughed  almost  as  loud  as  the  other  uncle 
had  yelled.  He  lost  the  gobbler,  it  is  true,  but  was 
fully. recompensed  by  the  joy  he  got  out  of  the  whir, 
the  rustle,  and  the  stampede. 

There  is  no  record  as  to  how  fast  the  cat  ran.  It 
must  have  done  the  best  it  could,  for  it  was  not  only 
frightened  but  probably  ashamed  that  it  should  have 
mistaken  a  darky  for  a  turkey.  As  for 
Uncle  Nathan — well,  all  he  lacked  of  fly- 
ing was  that  he  now  and  then  touched 
the  ground  with  the  fore-ends  of  his  feet. 
It  was  the  one  time  that  he 
did  no  grumbling  or  wailing; 
the  energy  necessary 
to  do  these  was  put 
into  his  legs  and 
feet.  These  were  his 
dependence. 


mam 


40      THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SETTLER 

Of  course  he  "trusted  in  de  Lawd,"  but  he  did  not 
let  his  legs  and  feet  know  that  he  was  so  trusting. 
In  this  long  stampede  he  made  but  one  exclamation. 
Scaring  up  a  rabbit  he  is  reported  to  have  said,  "  Git 
out  de  way,  rabbit,  and  let  a  man  run  what  kin  run." 

Some  time  after  that  Uncle  Wash  jokingly  said, 
"Nathan,  would  you  like  to  go  in  the  woods  to- 
morrow morning  and  yelp  up  a  gobbler  for  me?" 

"Mars  Wash,"  said  he,  "I  done  thro'd  dat  yelper 
'way.  S'pose  you  git  Alf;  he's  er  mulater  nigger, 
an'  don't  look  so  much  like  a  wile  turkey  as  a  black 
feller  like  me." 

We  shall  see  more  of  this  faithful  old  servant  in 
the  pages  which  follow.  Suffice  it  here  to  say,  he 
was  trusty  in  all  undertakings  except  such  as  exposed 
him  to  personal  danger.* 

*  The  subsequent  careers  of  Uncle  Wash  and  Nick  will  be  re- 
lated after  the  reader  has  been  informed  somewhat  of  the  origin 
and  movements  of  their  ancestors.  It  will  be  interesting  and 
instructive  to  know  where  these  typical  settlers  came  from,  and 
the  causes  and  incentives  which  brought  them  into  the  wilds 
of  Louisiana.  So  the  next  two  chapters  will  give  a  brief  account 
of  the  landing  of  the  first  English  pioneers  on  the  Atlantic  Coast, 
and  how  they  pushed  their  way  westward  through  the  wilder- 
ness, opening  lands,  founding  homes,  and  building  up  this  great 
nation.  After  that  the  story  of  Nick  will  be  resumed,  touching 
on  his  experiences  in  the  woods  and  on  the  farm,  at  college  and 
in  the  Civil  War. 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

THE  ATLANTIC  SLOPE 


The  Atlantic  Slope  is,  in  the  main,  the  land  which 
is  drained  by  the  streams  that  flow  into  the  Atlantic 
Ocean.  Starting  at  the  mouth  of  one  of  the  larger 
of  these  streams,  and  following  it  up,  one  would  get 
higher  and  higher  and  finally  reach  the  Allegheny 
Mountains,  or  one  of  their  numerous  spurs.  Before 
the  white  people  came  from  the  "old  world"  to  live 

41 


42  THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

in  the  "new  world,"  this  slope  was  inhabited  by  In- 
dians and  wild  beasts. 

On  April  26,  1607,  Captain  John  Smith,  with  a 
party  coming  over  to  live  in  the  new  world,  reached 
that  part  of  the  Atlantic  Slope  which  is  called  Vir- 
ginia. It  was  a  goodly  land,  fertile  and  charmful. 


Seldom  did  the  landscape  need  distance  to  give  en- 
chantment to  the  view.  The  hills  and  valleys  fol- 
lowed one  another  in  such  regular  and  graceful  un- 
dulations that  they  were  not  unlike  the  stately  swells 
and  heaves  of  the  ocean  after  the  violence  of  the 
storm  is  spent.  The  Blue  Ridge  has  many  tireless 
rivals  for  man's  admiration.  Of  these  are  the  distant 
hills  with  their  varying  tints  and  the  lovely  valleys 
with  their  carpets  of  green.  The  lark  soars  high  in 
the  blue  arch  overhead,  pours  forth  its  notes  of  joy, 
and  seems  to  say,  "The  world  is  full  of  brightness,  of 
sweetness,  and  of  hope." 

April  26,  1607,  may  be  remembered  as  the  date  of 


THE  ATLANTIC  SLOPE 


43 


the  first  permanent  English  settlement  in  America. 
Few  persons  stop  to  think  of  the  courage  and  heroism 
of  these  English  settlers.  Nowadays  men  and 
women  cross  the  Atlantic  in  a  few  days, 
making  the  voyage  in  elegant  and  well 
furnished  steamers,  and  give  scarce  a 
thought  to  the  hazard  of  it.  Then  it 
was  a  journey  of  many  weeks,  in  frail 
vessels  and  into  unknown  conditions  of 
land  and  water.  This  was  the  situation 
faced  by  Captain  Smith  and  his  fol- 
lowers. Besides  the  visible  perils,  there 
were  untold  dangers  of  which  they  knew 
naught.  Worn  by  the  travails  of 
a  long  sea  voyage,  they  began 
life  in  the  woods — a  wilder- 
ness so  vast  that  no  man 
could  say  where  it  had  its 
beginning  and  where  its 
ending.  Within 
the  range  of  eye 
or  ear  there  were 
no  signs  of  man's 
abode,  no  wisps  of 
smoke  to  mark 
the  place  of  hut 
or  tenement,  no 


44  THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

sound  of  bell,  no  bleat  of  sheep,  nor  distant  crow  of 
chanticleer  to  cheer  the  deep  twilight  calm.  With 
the  approach  of  darkness  came  a  jumble  of  night 
sounds — hoots  of  owls,  calls  of  whippoorwills,  and 
chantings  of  katydids — and  against  the  blackness  of 
the  woods  flashed  the  fitful  lights  of  countless  fireflies. 
But  the  settlers  were  brave  and  industrious.  They 
built  rough  cabins  to  live  in,  and  opened  small  fields 
and  gardens  in  which  they  raised  corn  and  vege- 
tables. In  the  course  of  time  more  white  people  came 
to  live  in  this  new  world,  building  their  homes  near 
the  places  where  they  landed.  Thus  was  formed  a 
strip  of  settlements  all  along  the  Atlantic  coast  from 
Georgia  to  Maine.  With  the  increase  in  population 
this  strip  became  wider  and  wider,  extending  up  the 
Atlantic  Slope  and  pushing  the  Indians  and  wild 
beasts  further  back  into  the  interior.  The  settlers 
met  with  many  difficulties  and  suffered  many  hard- 
ships. They  were  often  at  war  with  the  Indians,  and 
many  of  them  died  of  disease,  exposure,  and  want  of 
proper  care  or  food.  But  toils,  failures,  and  mis- 
fortunes called  forth  new  effort;  the  greater  the  labor 
they  undertook  the  greater  always  their  spirit.  It 
was  as  if  they  said,  "The  Atlantic  Slope  will  never 
be  abandoned  by  men  of  English  descent;  they  have 
come  to  claim  it,  and  here  will  they  abide  to  found  a 
new  nation." 


GROWTH  OF  THE  COLONIES  45 

GROWTH  OF  THE  COLONIES 

From  1607  to  1787  the  number  of  the  settlers  in- 
creased from  one  hundred  and  five  persons  to  about 
three  million.  This  increase  in  population  during 
these  one  hundred  and  eighty  years,  however  great, 
was  not  so  striking  as  the  growth  of  the  colonies  in 
other  ways.  Agriculture  and  the  industries  throve, 
and  trade  and  commerce  increased.  Very  good  roads 
and  bridges  were  constructed,  schools  and  colleges 
founded,  fine  churches  and  residences  erected,  and 
systems  of  county  and  state  governments  organized. 

The  colonists  enjoyed  largely  the  blessings  of  civil 
country  life.  Under  such  conditions  what  a  wonder- 
ful healer  and  teacher  is  the  woods !  Pure  air,  whole- 
some exercise,  and  plenty  of  refreshing  sleep  are  its 
tonics,  and  freedom,  nature,  and  harmonies  are  its 
lessons.  There  is  rest  in  its  quietude,  cheer  in  its 
songs,  and  inspiration  in  its  scenes  and  activities. 

While  lacking  in  the  accomplishments  of  life,  coun- 
try people  are,  as  a  rule,  lusty  and  stalwart,  muscular 
and  manly,  and  brimful  of  good  will  and  hospitality. 
"They  are  much  like  others,"  says  Mr.  Comstock, 
"  only  they  have  the  rough  bark  on.  They  are  a  great 
deal  more  vital — the  bark  has,  somehow,  kept  the 
sap  richer.  The  polishing  takes  something  away." 
"Every  large  city,"  says  Dr.  Eliot,  "is  a  consuming 


46 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 


fire  in  which  the  human  race  would  burn  itself  out 
in  a  few  generations  were  it  not  for  the  fresh  blood 
it  receives  from  the  country." 

Born  and  reared  in  the  freedom  of  the  air  and  the 
woods,  enjoying  the  rights  of  life,  liberty,  and  the 
pursuit  of  happiness,  country  people  have  always 
been  among  the  first  to  resist  the  sway  of  tyrants. 
While  their  love  of  liberty  and 
independence  sometimes  runs 
counter  to  the  wholesome  re- 
straints of  civilization,  it  is  well 
to  remember  that  republics 
have  had  their  births  in  the 
country,  and  ceased  to  be  de- 
mocracies when  they  lost  the 
spirit  and  lessons  of  the  woods. 
How  natural  that  a  great  re- 
public should  have  sprung  up 
in  the  free  wilds  of  America. 
The  pioneers  who  invaded  these 
vast  solitudes,  cleared  the 
lands  and  tilled  the  soil, 
imbibed  the  spirit  of  lib- 
erty and  the  ideals  of 
freedom  from  all  their  en- 
vironments, and  it  was 
only  a  question  of  time 


GROWTH  OF  THE  COLONIES  47 

when  they  would  no  longer  endure  the  yoke  of 
the  kingdoms  beyond  the  seas.  In  this  spirit  of 
liberty  and  these  ideals  of  freedom  the  colonists  had 
their  greatest  growth — a  growth  to  which  our  great 
republic  is  indebted  for  the  triumphs  of  the  past,  the 
blessings  of  the  present,  and  the  hopes  of  the 
future. 

A  country  is  known  and  measured  largely  by  its 
products.  Cotton  and  corn,  horses  and  cattle,  timber 
and  minerals  are  indeed  valuable  products;  but  the 
greatest  possible  products  of  a  people  or  a  country  are 
great  men  and  women.  Measured  by  this  rule  the 
colonists  must  have  been  a  great  people,  for  they  pro- 
duced Washington,  Franklin,  Adams,  Jefferson, 
Hamilton,  Greene,  Henry,  Hancock,  Madison,  and 
many  others  noted  in  civil  and  military  life.  Under 
these  leaders  they  fought  successfully  the  battles  of 
the  Revolutionary  War.  They  did  something  even 
greater  than  that — they  founded  the  great  and  good 
government  under  which  we  live. 


48  THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  WEST 


When  the  Revolutionary  War  came  to  an  end,  the 
soldiers  returned  to  their  homes  and  resumed  the 
pursuits  of  peaceful  life.  Many  of  them  found  their 
farms  in  a  sad  plight.  The  barns  were  in  decay,  the 
fences  gone,  and  the  fields  and  gardens  covered  with 
bushes  and  briers.  They  had  no  money  with  which 
to  hire  help  or  to  buy  the  things  they  so  much  needed. 
But  "  where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way.'*  They  had 
the  will,  and  the  way  sooner  or  later  followed,  though 
it  led  through  much  toil  and  many  hardships.  Some 
of  them  left  their  old  farms  and  moved  to  new 
settlements,  where  the  soil  was  fresh  and  more 
fertile. 

Beyond  the  Allegheny  Mountains  was  a  vast  un- 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  WEST  49 

known  wilderness  stretching  away  toward  the  sun- 
set. In  it  were  great  forests  and  wide  plains,  and 
many  rolling  rivers  and  dense  canebrakes.  The  In- 
dians inhabited  it,  and  countless  buffaloes  browsed 
on  the  plains;  bears,  panthers,  and  wolves  roamed  in 
the  forests  and  canebrakes.  Some  daring  men  had 
gone  into  these  wilds  and  brought  back  wonderful 
reports  of  the  richness  of  the  soil,  the  beauty  of  the 
rivers,  and  the  abundance  and  variety  of  the  timber, 
the  fish,  and  the  game. 

These  reports  caused  many  of  the  settlers  to  turn 
their  eager  eyes  and  souls  to  the  west.  Very  soon 
many  families  and  companies  of  men  and  women 
began  to  move  across  the  mountains  and  into  the 
wilds  which  lay  beyond.  Some  went  in  the  hope 
of  gain,  and  some  in  answer  to  the  call  of  the  wild. 
This  love  of  the  wild  shows  itself,  more  or  less,  in 
all  men  and  boys.  There  are  few  lads  who  do  not 
like  to  ramble  in  the  woods,  swim  in  the  streams  that 
flow  through  the  forests,  and  play  Robinson  Crusoe 
on  their  lonely  islands. 

Strange,  indeed,  it  is  that  anyone  should  prefer 
life  in  the  woods,  with  its  exposures  and  privations, 
to  the  comforts  of  home.  Yet  there  are  those  to 
whom  the  call  of  the  wild  is  stronger  than  the  love  of 
ease  and  comfort,  or  the  dread  of  toil  and  hunger,  or 
the  fear  of  disease  and  danger.  With  a  few  congenial 


50 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 


friends  they  find  delight  in  hunting  wild  beasts  in 
the  trackless  swamps,  fishing  in  wildwood  streams, 
and  eating  coarse  meals  in  the  deep  shadows  of  the 
forest.  Stranger  still  that  this  joy  in  wild  scenes  and 
wild  life  is  often  greatest  when  danger  is  most  threat- 
ening and  the  ills  most  severe. 

No  doubt  this  love  of  the  wild  was  implanted  in 
man  for  a  wise  purpose.      To  it   is 
due  primarily  the  extension  of  man's 
rule    over   the   earth.     In    our    own 
country,   as   in  many   others  of   the 
past,    the    men    who    answered    the 
call   of  the   wild   were   the   pioneers 
of  civil  life.     Without  them  vast  re- 
gions,   with    all    their  '  wealth    of    soil, 
timber,    and     mines,    would     probably 
have    still     been     unknown,    and    wild 
beasts  would  yet  be  roaming  over  fer- 
tile tracts  where  corn  and 
cotton  now  grow.    It  may 
be   that    the    call    of    the 
wild  was  at  least  a  stimu- 
lus  to   the  explorations  of 
discoverers    like  Columbus 
and    Fremont,   Livingston, 
Stanley,  and  Roosevelt. 


THE  WESTWARD  MOVEMENT 


Accustomed  as  we  are  now  to  good  highways,  auto- 
mobiles, railroads,  and  steamboats,  it  is  hard  for  one 
to  realize  how  rough  was  the  way  and  meager  the 
means  of  traveling  in  the  days  of  our  forefathers. 
In  moving  from  the  east  to  the  west  the  pioneers 
usually  went  in  ox  wagons.  They  carried  only  small 
outfits  of  bedding,  clothing,  and  utensils.  Among 
these  "necessary  things"  were  frying  pans,  axes,  and 
gun's.  For  the  sake  of  company,  and  for  help  and  pro- 
tection in  time  of  need,  two  or  more  families  gener- 
ally moved  together.  Often  the  roads,  when  there 
were  any,  had  to  be  "cleared  out"  or  causewayed. 
Hampered  in  this  and  many  other  ways  the  prog- 
ress was  slow.  With  the  close  of  day  camp  was 
pitched  near  a  spring  or  running  branch,  if  possible. 
Beds  were  "fixed"  in  the  wagons  for  the  women 

STORIES   OF   DIXIE. — 1 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 


and  children  and 
pallets  made  under 
the  trees  for  the  men 
and  boys.  As  the 
blackness  of  night 
closed  about  them 
there  came  many 
dismal  sounds  from 
the  woods — maybe 
the  howl  of  a  wolf,  the  hoot  of 
^  an  owl,  the  bark  of  a  fox,  or 

the  yell  of  an  Indian. 
'  But  with  all  their  scanty  means  of 
travel  and  comfort  the  trip  was  to 
them  more  enjoyable  than  onerous.  Never 
having  known  of  the  arts  and  ease  of  modern  life, 
they  did  not  miss  the  comforts  or  conveniences. 
Just  as  a  citizen  of  Atlanta  enjoys  for  the  first  time 
the  sights  of  Washington,  so  these  denizens  of  the 
country  were  cheered  and  charmed  by  the  new 
woodland  scenes  that  constantly  opened  before  them. 
Indeed,  there  is  nothing  in  city  life  which  so  thrills 
the  heart  of  man  as  the  wild  sense  of  freedom  which 
the  pioneer  feels  in  the  wilderness. 

People  spread  over  the  West  from  the  East  by  de- 
grees. Going  some  distance  westward  they  bought 
or  preempted  land,  built  houses,  and  opened  farms. 


THE  WESTWARD  MOVEMENT 


53 


After  living  on  these  farms  for  some  time,  maybe 
many  years,  they  or  their  children  moved  to  places 
still  farther  west,  and  so  on,  thus  gradually  encroach- 
ing on  the  hunting  ground  of  the  red  man,  and  con- 
verting it  into  a  land  of  homes,  farms,  and  schools. 
It  may  be  worth  while  to  note  why  and  how  this 
change  went  on  thus  by  degrees. 

When  the  land  was  first  cleared  the  virgin  soil,  as 
it  was  called,  was  very  fertile  and  produced  large 
crops  of  everything  planted  in  it.  But  the  crops  fed 
on  and  consumed  the  richness  of 
the  soil  just  as  a  horse  feeds  on 
and  eats  up  corn.  Much  of  this 
rich  soil  was  also  washed  away  by 
the  rains.  The  method  of  farming 
was  a  wasteful  one,  because  little 
was  done  to  restore  the  plant  food 
which  the  crops  took  from  the  soil, 
and  little  provision  was  made  to 
keep  the  soil  from  washing  away;  so 
that,  sooner  or  later,  the  fields  being 
pretty  well  worn  out,  the  owners 
would  "sell  out,"  and  move  far- 
ther west  to  obtain  fresh  land. 

All  the  settlers,  more  or  less, 
had  horses,  mules,  cattle,  and 
hogs,  and  these  were  called  stock. 


54  THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

In  the  fresh  wild  woods,  especially  during  the 
spring,  summer,  and  fall,  there  was  a  quantity  of 
good  food  for  the  stock,  such  as  grass,  cane,  acorns, 
beechnuts,  and  pine  masts.  The  woods  where  this 
food  abounded  were  called  ranges.  When  new  set- 
tlers came  along  they  would  buy  or  enter  a  portion 
of  the  land,  and  therefore,  year  by  year,  the  ranges 
became  smaller  and  poorer.  To  procure  better  ones, 
the  owners  would  sell  out  and  move  farther  west. 

In  the  wild  regions  where  there  were  but  few,  if 
any,  settlers,  the  woods  abounded  in  deer,  turkeys, 
bears,  ducks,  and  other  kinds  of  animals  and  Birds 
that  were  good  to  eat.  These  were  called  game,  and 
in  the  new  settlements  it  formed  a  large  part  of  the 
people's  food.  But,  as  the  number  of  settlers  in- 
creased game  became  scarcer,  and  by  and  by,  many 
would  seek  a  locality  farther  west,  where  it  was 
more  plentiful. 

To  some  the  call  of  the  wild  was  always  a  stimulus 
to  go  west.  The  desire  for  adventure  and  the  excite- 
ment that  attends  the  discovery  of  new  wonders 
in  Nature's  handiwork,  appealed  to  them  and  in 
addition  to  the  mere  joy  of  life  in  the  wilds,  with 
its  accompanying  good  health,  there  was  also  much 
profit  to  be  made  by  securing  and  selling  the  hides 
and  furs  of  such  animals  as  bears,  foxes,  beavers, 
otters,  and  minks. 


THE  WESTWARD  MOVEMENT 


55 


AN  ILLUSTRATION  OF  THE  WESTWARD  MOVEMENT 

In  the  cemetery  at  Tuskegee,  Alabama,  there  is  a 
( tombstone  bearing  this  inscription: 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

HARRIS  NICHOLSON, 

A  REVOLUTIONARY  SOLDIER; 

WHO  WAS  BORN  ON  THE   12TH.  DAY  OF  MARCH, 

A.   D.    1760,  AND  DEPARTED    THIS  LIFE  ON  THE 

28TH,   DAY  OF  JUNE   1841;  AGED  81YR.,  3  MO., 

16    DAYS. 

The  ancestors  of  this  old  soldier  came  from  Scot- 
land, and  settled  in  the 
Colony  of  Maryland.  Soon 
after  the  Revolutionary  War, 
Harris  moved  from  Mary- 
land to  Virginia  and  thence 
to  Georgia,  whether  in  hopes 
of  gain  or  in  answer  to  the 
call  of  the  wild,  it  is  not 
known.  Probably  both  in- 
centives had  something  to  do 

with  it.     He  had  three  sons,  all  born  in  Virginia,  one 
of  whom  was  called  James. 

James  did  not  take  much  to  guns  and  hounds.  His 
activities  were  due  far  more  to  the  hope  of  gain  than 
to  the  call  of  the  wild.  Having  a  business  turn,  and 


56 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 


being  industrious  and  saving,  "he  laid  up  treasures 
on  earth"  until  he  became  very  well  off  for  a  pioneer 
farmer.  He  had  five  sons,  all  of  whom  were  named 
after  men  noted  in  politics  or  religion;  namely,  Mat- 
thew, Washington,  Monroe,  Absalom,  and  Wesley. 
From  Georgia  he  moved  to  Alabama,  settling -first  in 
Autauga  and  later  in  Macon  County.  This  was  be- 
fore the  Indians  had  been  driven  out  of  the  state. 
Near  the  pretty  little  city  of  Tuskegee,  James  Nichol- 
son lived  and  died.  There,  by  his  venerable  father, 
he,  his  wife,  and  his  son  Wesley  are  buried. 

It  was  in  Alabama  that  Washington,  the  second 
son,   grew   from   boyhood   to   man- 
hood.     In    business    matters    and 
habits  he  was  more  or  less  like  his 
«sli?*$L     father,  but  very  unlike  him  in  re- 
gard to  the  chase  and  the  wilds. 
Being  a  great  lover  of 
the  woods  and  all  kinds 
of  field  sports,  he  was 
to    be    found    in    the 
forest  or   swamp  with 
his  gun  or  his  fishing 
rod     when    not    busy 
with  work  on  the  farm. 
As    he  grew  older   he 
came  to  be  known  as 


THE  WESTWARD  MOVEMENT 


57 


"Uncle  Wash,"  and  it  is  by  that  name  that  he  is 
designated  in  the  opening  chapter  of  these  chroni- 
cles. 

During  the  same  period  there  lived  near  Tuskegee 
another  well-to-do  James,  whose  surname  was  Wafer. 
The  Wafers  came  originally  from  Ireland,  and  settled 


in  South  Carolina.  Now  the  Scotch  James  and  the 
Irish  James  were  neighbors  and  good  friends,  and 
this  paved  the  way  to  friendly  relations  between 
Washington  and  Miss  Martha,  the  younger  daughter 
of  the  Irish  James.  Washington  came  to  admire 
Martha  for  her  genial  Irish  qualities,  and  she  him  for 
his  sturdy  Scotch  endowments.  So,  in  the  natural 
course  of  human  events,  they  became  man  and  wife. 
This  goodly  couple,  strong  in  body  and  clean  in 


58  THE  STORY  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

morals,  were  the  father  and  mother  of  Nick,  the  hero 
of  this  book. 

The  careers  of  Matthew  and  Monroe  Nicholson, 
brothers  of  Uncle  Wash,  furnish  additional  examples 
of  the  westward  movement.  The  former,  Matthew, 
early  espoused  the  cause  of  the  "Lone  Star  State," 
and  after  following  the  fortunes  of  Sam  Houston, 
joined  his  friend  Walker,  the  "filibuster,"  and  died 
in  his  service  in  Nicaragua.  Monroe  served  under 
General  Taylor  throughout  the  Mexican  War,  and 
subsequently  settled  in  Texas.  The  children  of 
these  two  brothers  now  reside  in  that  great  state.* 

*  To  continue  this  illustration  of  the  movements  to  the  west  we  might 
here  run  ahead  of  our  story  to  say  that  Nick  was  carried  in  infancy  to 
Louisiana,  where  he  grew  to  manhood,  was  married  and  became  the 
father  of  three  sons.  Thesey-  in  the  course  of  time,  moved  still  farther 
west.  Two  of  them  now  live  in  Texas,  and  a  short  time  since  the  third 
was  driven  out  of  Mexico  by  the  insurgents. 

Similarly,  there  are  countless  other  southern  families  whose  sojournings 
in  the  westward  movement  may  be  traced  from  the  Potomac  to  the 
Rio  Grande. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 

MORE  "ELBOW  ROOM" 

Although  eastern  Alabama  at  that  time  (1844)  was 
a  comparatively  new  country,  Uncle  Wash  began  to 
look  about  for  a  still  newer  one.  Said  he,  "I  want 
more  elbow  room."  He  had  heard  much  of  a  land 
called  Louisiana  lying  away  beyond  the  great  Missis- 
sippi River.  He  longed  to  till  its  fertile  soil,  browse 
his  stock  on  its  wide  and  rich  ranges,  and  hunt  the 

•  & 

wild  animals  in  its  forests  'and  canebrakes.  He 
thought  of  it  as  "the  promised  land"  and  to  that 
far  away  region  he  resolved  to  go.  His  family  at  that 
time  consisted  of  himself,  wife,  and  three  children, 
little  Nick  being  the  baby. 

Just  here  we  may  recall  a  custom  of  "large  slave 
owners,"  that  is,  men  who  owned  quite  a  number  of 
negro  slaves.  When  a  son  or  daughter  married,  the 
"old  folks  "  would  give  him  or  her  a  few  negroes.  The 
child  generally  knew,  years  in  advance,  which  of  the 
slaves  these  would  be,  and  the  slaves  also  knew.  In 
kind-hearted  families,  as  most  of  the  Dixie  families 

59 


60       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 


were,  there  always  sprang  up  a  close  tie  between  the 
child  and  his  or  her  promised  negroes.     Indeed,  the 

servants  came  to  have 
for  their  "  young  massa" 
or  "young missis"  a  pa- 
ternal or  fraternal  affec- 
tion. In  dividing  the 
negroes  among  the 
white  children  real 
family  ties  were  seldom 
if  ever  severed,  unless 
the  change  was  agree- 


able   to    the 
themselves. 


negroes 


In  accordance  with  this  custom,  Uncle  Wash  had 
received  from  his  father  and  his  wife's  father,  both 
of  whom  were  then  living,  the  following  negroes: 
Uncle  Nathan  and  his  wife  (Aunt  Jane),  Aunt  Kitty 
and  her  daughter  Mary  (the  house  girl),  Claricy  (a 
woman),  and  Caroline  (Nick's  nurse). 

There  were,  at  that  time,  two  usual  routes  of 
travel  from  Alabama  to  Louisiana:  First,  the  "over- 
land route"  which  was  traveled  in  wagons,  and  led 
through  the  state  of  Mississippi  and  across  the  great 
swamp  of  the  "Father  of  Waters"  and  that  river 
itself  at  Vicksburg,  Rodney,  or  Natchez;  second, 
the  "water  route"  which  was  more  comfortable,  by 


OFF  FOR  LOUISIANA  61 

the  way  of  Mobile  and  New  Orleans.  Movers  hav- 
ing a  large  number  of  negroes  and  much  stock  often 
sent  them  by  the  first  route  and  took  their  families 
by  the  second.  Uncle  Wash  took  his  family  and  his 
slaves  by  the  water  route. 

OFF  FOR  LOUISIANA 

"Good-by!  Good-by!"  was  uttered  many  times  in 
sorrow  and  in  tears,  as  Uncle  Wash  and  his  party 
seated  themselves  in  the  wagons  which  were  to 
carry  them  from  Tuskegee  to  Montgomery;  and  for 
some  distance  a  shadow  of  sadness  hovered  over 
them.  But  it  was  a  bright  September  morning,  and 
all  the  landscape  was  brilliant  with  sunshine.  Here 
and  there  the  country  was  threaded  with  little 
streams  whose  rippling  waters  inspired  hope  and 
gladness.  These  cheering  scenes  tended  to  lighten 
the  hearts  and  brighten  the  eyes  of  the  movers. 

At  Montgomery  they  took  a  boat,  went  down  the 
Alabama  River  to  Mobile,  and  thence  across  the  gulf 
to  New  Orleans.  For  the  first  time  in  their  lives  they 
were  out  of  sight  of  land.  Aunt  Martha  amused  her- 
self by  watching  the  "servants";  she  never  called 
them  slaves  or  negroes.  Uncle  Wash  also  enjoyed 
seeing  them  "see  things,"  though  he  pretended  not  to 
notice  it.  He  smiled  when  Nathan,  standing  on  the 


62       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 


bow  of  the  vessel  and  looking  all  around  to  where 
the   sky   and  sea   seemed   to    come   together,   said, 

"It  sho'  do  look  like 
we'se  in  er  kind  er 
low  place  wi'  high 
Ian'  all  roun'  us." 

At  one  time  the 
boat  was  tossed  by  a 
great  wave  just  as 
Aunt  Kitty  was  cross- 
ing the  deck.  She 
slipped  and  fell  with 
such  a  crash  as  to  jar  the  boat  and  startle  the  pas- 
sengers. This  time  Uncle  Wash  laughed  outright, 
and  so  did  every  one  present  except  Aunt  Martha, 
who  rushed  to  the  fallen  one,  helped  her  up,  and  as- 
sisted her  to  her  couch.  After  that,  no  coaxing  could 
induce  Aunt  Kitty  to  leave  the  safest  retreat  she 
could  find.  Aunt  Martha  visited  the  servants  to  see 
how  they  were  getting  along,  and  finding  Aunt  Jane 
packing  away  some  food  said,  "Jane,  what  are  you 
doing?" 

"Miss  Marfy,  I'se  been  frowin'  up  dreadful,  and 
Nathan  he  'lowed  I  had  de  sea  complaint;  so  I'se  des 
puttin'  up  a  little  vi'tals  to  eat  when  us  come  to  de 
udder  side." 

They  landed  at  Milneburg,  and  from  there  went 


OFF  FOR  LOUISIANA 


63 


on  "The  Pontchartrain  Railroad"  to  the  city  of  New 
Orleans,  a  distance  of  about  six  miles.  This  is 
said  to  be  the  second 
oldest  railroad  i  n 
America.  At  that 
time  there  were  three 
others  in  the  state 
nearly  as  old;  viz., 
one  from  New  Or- 
leans to  Carrollton, 
one  from  Port  Hud- 
son to  Clinton,  and 
one  from  Bayou  Sara 
to  Woodville,  Mississippi.  Surely  the  people  living 
in  this  section  at  that  time  must  have  been  progres- 
sive and  more  or  less  wealthy. 

At  one  time  on  the  way  Uncle  Nathan  was  gazing 
intently  out  of  a  window,  just  as  the  train  was  flying 
by  a  field  in  which  the  rows  were  at  right  angles  to 
the  track. 

"Nathan,"  said  Aunt  Jane,  "  what  is  yer  starin' 
at  so  out'n  dat  winder?" 

"Dem  rows,"  said  Nathan,  "sho'  do  look  like  de 
spokes  of  a  big  wheel  all  turnin'  roun'  a  hub  way  out 
yon'er  in  de  woods." 

When  the  train  stopped  and  the  party  alighted, 
Claricy  said,  "Dat  sho'  do  beat  me." 


64       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 

"What  yer  talkin'  'bout  now,  nigger?"  asked  Uncle 
Nathan. 

"Why,  God-er-mighty,  man,"  said  Claricy,  "I 
didn't  mor'n  git  on  dat  sof  seat  'fore  I  had  to  git 
out." 

NEW  ORLEANS  THEN  AND  Now 

New  Orleans  was  then  a  small  place  in  comparison 
with  what  it  is  now.  The  principal  business  streets 
at  that  time  were  Royal  and  Chartres,  and  the  main 
residence  street  was  Esplanade.  The  city  did  not 
extend  much  above  Canal  Street.  What  is  now  called 
Howard  Avenue  was  the  boundary  of  the  suburbs, 
and  all  beyond  that,  away  up  to  Carrollton,  was 
woods.  The  railroad  from  New  Orleans  to  Carroll- 
ton  went  through  these  woods,  and  the  roadbed  of 
that  old  railway  is  now  largely  the  beautiful  St. 
Charles  Avenue.  The  depot  was  on  the  lot  now  oc- 
cupied by  the  public  library. 

New  Orleans,  was  founded  by  the  French  in  1718, 
and  in  the  course  of  time  more  and  more  people 
came  from  France  to  make  their  homes  there.  Among 
these  were  members  of  many  of  the  oldest,  wealthiest, 
and  most  cultured  families  of  Paris.  Thus  this  lead- 
ing city  of  Dixie,  in  the  social,  industrial,  and  com- 
mercial habits  of  its  citizens,  and  in  the  style  of  its 
private  and  public  buildings,  became  the  Paris  of  the 


NEW  ORLEANS  THEN  AND  NOW 


65 


new  world.  After  a  while  the  English-speaking  peo- 
ple began  to  settle  in  the  place.  They  moved  in 
slowly  at  first,  but  after  about  184,5  they  poured  in  at 
a  rapid  rate.  They  settled  mostly  in,  and  built  up, 
that  part  of  the  city  lying  above  Canal  Street.  Thus 
Canal  became  the  central  street,  and  on  and-  across 
this  great'  broad  way  played  the  forces  which  made 
New  Orleans  the  charming  French-English  city  that 
it  is.  Its  population  is  unique  in  that  it  is  more  or 
less  a  cross  between  the  sturdy  and  thrifty  Scotch- 


66       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 

English  and  the  artistic  and  chivalrous  French.  We 
may  say  of  them  what  Macaulay  said  of  the  Irish: 
"They  have  the  qualities  which  make  people  inter- 
esting rather  than  prosperous."  And  this  is  no  bad 
thing  to  say  about  anybody.  As  a  commendation  it 
is  better  than  the  reverse,  though  it  may  not  be  so 
regarded  by  some  in  this  money-loving  age. 

However,  as  stated  by  Mark  Twain,  "New  Orleans 
is  outfitted  with  progressive  men — thinking,  saga- 
cious, long-headed  men."  In  the  face  of  adverse  in- 
dustrial and  economic  changes  wrought  by  the  Civil 
War,  the  city  has  had  a  steady  growth  in  population 
and  material  prosperity.  It  has  met  its  problems  in 
sanitation,  economics,  and  education  bravely  and 
skillfully.  The  bank  deposits  and  clearances  bear 
testimony  to  its  financial  welfare;  and  artistic  and 
noble  public  buildings  bespeak  its  civic  pride  and 
elegant  discernment.  Nowhere  are  parks  more  in- 
viting and  restful,  nor  works  of  art  more  varied  and 
attractive.  Throughout  the  city  are  numerous 
homes,  both  palatial  and  humble,  that  tell  their  own 
story  of  taste  and  comfort  and  hospitality.  Few 
cities  have  more  efficient  public  schools,  and  fewer 
still  enjoy  the  advantages  and  blessings  of  a  great 
university  like  Tulane. 

In  the  meantime,  New  Orleans  has  not  forgotten 
that: 


NEW  ORLEANS  THEN  AND  NOW 


67 


'We  may  live  without  poetry,  music  and  art; 
We  may  live  without  conscience,  and  live  without  heart; 
We  may  live  without  friends;  we  may  live  without  books; 
But  civilized  man  cannot  live  without  cooks." 


The  traveling  public  may  be  unmindful  of  the 
city's  great  buildings  and  parks,  but  of  its  cuisine 
never.  Nowhere  has  coffee  a  more  delightful 
aroma  or  meat  a  more  savory  flavor.  No  less  noted 
are  the  New  Orleans  oysters — renowned  alike  for 
their  abundance  and  their  quality.  The  festive 
board  with  its  viands  and  good  cheer  has  played 
an  important  role  in  the  life  of  this  city  of  Dixie; 

STORIES   OF  DIXIE. — 5 


68       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 


and  the  many  bright  and  generous  things  which  have 
been  said  and  done  there  are  largely  responsible  for 
the  reputed  "qualities  which  make  the  people  more 
interesting  than  prosperous." 

Uncle  Wash  and  his  party  stopped  at  the  St. 
Charles,  which  was  said  to  be 
"the  handsomest  hotel,  not 
only  in  the  United  States,  but 
in  the  world."  Before  going 
to  dinner  Aunt  Martha  said  to 
her  husband, 

"Now,  my  dear,  you  must  re- 
member not  to  eat  with  your 
knife,  nor  pick  your  teeth  at  the 
table;  and  be  sure  to  sip  your 
soup  quietly  from  the  side  of 
your  spoon." 

Of  course  he  had  been  taught 
these  things  at  home  from  child- 
hood, but  life  in  the  woods  had 
made   him  careless 
about,   and   almost 
indifferent  to,  these 
,.  "  highf alutin'   man- 
ners."   A  hint  that 
his    manners    were 
not  first  class  net- 


NEW  ORLEANS  THEN  AND  NOW  69 

tied  him,  and  he  pretended  to  know  exactly  what  to 
do  without  being  told  by  anybody. 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,"  said  he  rather  sullenly, 
"but  I  tell  you  now,  it  will  be  precious  little  soup  that 
I'll  get  if  I  have  to  sip  it  from  the  side  of  a  spoon.  I 
call  that  tomfoolery." 

Like  most  country  people  they  thought  when  they 
entered  the  dining  hall  that  all  eyes  were  centered  on 
them.  This  put  Uncle  Wash  on  his  best  behavior; 
so  he  watched  Aunt  Martha  on  the  sly,  and  by  fol- 
lowing her  lead,  was  proud  to  think  that  his  conduct 
had  been  such  as  to  show  those  city  folks  that  "he 
knew  a  thing  or  two"  himself. 

After  dinner  they  stood  on  the  beautiful  veranda 
of  the  hotel,  and  looked  out  over  the  city.  In  the 
street  below  them  people  and  vehicles  of  many  de- 
scriptions moved  hither  and  thither,  and  beyond  lay 
blocks  of  massive  buildings  following  each  other  in 
endless  perspective.  The  noise  of  it  all  rose  and  fell 
like  the  roar  of  the  sea  about  them.  How  different 
was  this  sound  from  that  of  the  woods.  Here  it  was 
as  the  roar  of  battle — sharp,  harsh,  and  discordant. 
In  the  woods  the  countless  voices  of  nature  produce 
no  discords;  the  country  is  never  out  of  tune  with 
itself.  "Its  music  is  one  vast  elemental  chord  and 
has  been  the  same  for  all  time." 

They  spent  the  afternoon  in  "seeing  the  sights." 


70       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 

Of  course  they  went  to  the  French  Market,  and  the 
many  interesting  and  curious  things  they  saw  and 
heard  there  gave  them  something 
to  talk  about  for  many  a  day  to 
come.  Among  other  places  and 
things  they  saw  were  the  mint, 
where  silver  dollars  were  being 
coined;  the  ships,  with  their  tall 
masts  and  fine  cabins;  the  bird 
stores,  where  many  kinds  of 
pretty  birds  were  for  sale;  and 
the  St.  Louis  Hotel,  with  its  ball- 
rooms "unequaled  in  the  United 
States  for  size  and  beauty." 
Aunt  Martha,  always  thoughtful  of  the  children 
and  servants,  took  them  with  her  to  all  these  places, 
not  only  for  their  amusement  and  instruction,  but  for 
the  pleasure  she  derived  from  their  droll  and  witty 
comments  on  the  things  they  saw  and  heard.  At  the 
French  Market,  Uncle  Nathan,  looking  at  some  tawny 
foreigners,  said,  "For  de  life  er  me  I  don't  see  how 
dey  tells  de  white  folks  from  de  niggers  down  here." 
An  Italian  was  vending  fruit  and  speaking  loudly  and 
rather  musically  in  a  jumble  of  the  English  and  Italian 
languages.  Nathan  gazed  at  him  as  if  looking  at  a 
clown  in  a  circus,  and  said,  "Dat  must  be  sum  kin'  er 
corn  song  he  singin'."  Aunt  Kitty,  who  could  not 


UP  THE  RED  RIVER  71 

see  very  well,  ran  against  a  metallic  statue  of  an  In- 
dian used  in  advertising  cigars.  She  hustled  around  it 
in  a  hurry,  exclaiming,  "I  run'd  smack  into  dat  gent'- 
man;  I  wonder  what  he  standin'  out  dar  like  dat  fur? 
Dey  sho'  do  have  sum  po'  white  trash  down  here! " 
Never  was  a  trip  more  thoroughly  enjoyed  by  all, 
white  and  black;  and  I  doubt  not  that  all  rejoiced  in 
the  thought  that  they  had  now  added  to  their  list  of 
sights  many  things  that  others  had  not  seen. 

UP  THE  RED  RIVER 

The  next  day  a  flag  was  flying  from  the  jack  staff 
of  a  Red  River  boat,  and  also  a  smaller  one  from  the 
verge  staff  astern.  This  signified  that  the  boat  would 
leave  that  day.  The  usual  time  of  departure  was 
5  o'clock,  P.  M.  As  that  time  drew  nearer  things 
became  more  lively  about  the  boat;  quantities  of 
barrels  and  boxes  were  rushed  across  the  levee,  on 
to  the  stage-planks,  and  aboard  the  steamer.  In  the 
midst  of  this  hurly-burly  the  passengers  made  their 
way  to  the  boat  as  best  they  could,  many  of  them 
carrying  one  or  more  huge  packages.  To  our  little 
company,  it  all  looked  like  a  drove  of  hustling  ants 
almost  covered  by  their  big  burdens  of  plunder. 
Among  other  things  Uncle  Wash  had  a  basket  of 
fishing  tackle,  and  a  new  double-barreled  shotgun 


72       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 


guaranteed    "to  shoot   buckshot   through  an   inch- 
plank  at  a  distance  of  one  hundred  yards." 

Great  masses 
of  black  smoke 
rose  from  the  tall 
j  chimneys  and 
drifted  like 
clouds  over  the 
city. 

By  and  by  the 
throttle  valve  of  the  powerful  engine  was  opened, 
the  great  driving  wheel  began  to  turn,  and  the 
vessel  glided  backward  into  the  deep  water.  Soon 
she  made  a  graceful  swing,  and  with  her  prow 
pointed  up  stream,  began  her  journey  on  the  Father 
of  Waters. 

By  the  time  the  boat  was  fairly  under  way  the  pas- 
sengers had  secured  their  staterooms,  and  found  com- 
fortable seats  on  the  open  promenade  deck  over- 
looking the  river  and  the  city.  All  eyes  were  strained 
to  catch  the  many  changing  scenes  of  land  and  water. 
Invigorated  by  the  fresh  air  and  charmed  by  the 
glorious  sights,  every  heart  thrilled  with  joy  and 
every  eye  beamed  with  delight.  For  the  time  being, 
troubles,  pains,  and  anxieties  were  forgotten,  the 
puny  becoming  well  and  the  old  young. 

But  there  was  another  scene  on  the  after  deck  that 


UP  THE  RED  RIVER  73 

is  worthy  of  notice.  In  that  quiet  place  three  con- 
genial spirits  formed  a  little  coterie  of  their  own. 
How  soon  "birds  of  a  feather  flock  together."  Crea- 
tures "of  a  kind"  are  drawn  together  by  a  power  as 
invisible  and  as  certain  as  the  force  of  gravity.  Of  no 
other  kind  is  this  more  true  than  of  hunters  and  fisher- 
men. Each  of  these  three  was  exploiting  the  merits 
of  his  new  double-barreled  shotgun.  Uncle  Wash 
told  what  his  "Mary  Ann"  was  guaranteed  to  do. 
"From  what  the  fellow  told  me  about  my  'Nancy 
Jane,'  "  said  Mr.  A.,  "she's  going  to  kill  'em  so  high 
up  they'll  spoil  before  they  hit  the  ground."  "That's 
nothing,"  said  Mr.  B.,  "I  am  fearing  that  'Martha 
Washington'  is  going  to  kill  'em  so  dead  they  won't 
fall." 

In  1827  Mrs.  Trollope  wrote:  "The  unbroken  flat- 
ness of  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  continued  un- 
varied for  many  miles  above  New  Orleans;  but  the 
graceful  and  luxuriant  palmetto,  the  dark  and  noble 
ilex,  and  the  bright  orange  were  everywhere  to  be 
seen,  and  it  was  many  days  before  we  were  weary  of 
looking  at  them." 

In  the  same  year  Captain  Basil  Hall  wrote:  "The 
district  of  country  which  lies  adjacent  to  the  Missis- 
sippi, in  the  lower  parts  of  Louisiana,  is  everywhere 
thickly  peopled  by  sugar  planters,  whose  showy 
houses,  gay  piazzas,  trig  gardens,  and  numerous  slave 


74       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 


villages,   all   clean   and   neat,   gave   an   exceedingly 
thriving  air  to  the  river  scenery." 

"From  New  Orleans  to  Baton  Rouge,"  wrote 
Mark  Twain  in  1882,  "the  great  sugar  plantations 
border  both  sides  of  the  river  all  the  way,  and  stretch 
their  league-wide  levels  back  to  the  dim  forest  walls 
of  bearded  cypress  in  the  rear.  A  most  homelike  and 
happy-looking  region.  And  now  and  then  you  see  a 
pillared  and  porticoed  great  manor- 
house  embowered  in  trees."  "But,"  he 
continues,  "the  trigness  of  it  all  has 
passed  away.  The  whitewash  is  gone 
from  the  negro  cabins  now;  and  many, 
possibly  most,  of  the  big  mansions, 
once  so  shining  white,  have  worn  out 
their  paint  and  have  a  decayed 
and  neglected  look.  It  is  the 
blight  of  war." 

Most  of  the  people 
living  alongside  of  the 
river  were  French. 
Indeed  South  Louisi- 
ana (all  that  part  ly- 
ing south  of  the 
mouth  of  Red  River) 
was  settled  largely 
by  French  emigrants 


UP  THE  RED  RIVER  75 

from  Acadia  and  France,  and  most  of  the  present 
inhabitants  of  that  section  are  of  French  descent. 
These  Creoles,  as  they  are  called,  are  kind,  polite  and 
industrious,  and  among  them  are  some  of  the  richest 
men  in  the  state.  By  their  high  ideals  and  courtly 
bearing  many  of  them  show  that  the  blue  blood  of 
the  old  French  aristocracy  flows  in  their  veins. 
They  have  furnished  many  of  the  leaders  of  Dixie  in 
civil  and  military  life,  among  whom  were  Audubon, 
the  naturalist;  Gayarre  and  Fortier,  the  historians; 
Beauregard,  the  general  and  engineer;  and  Paul 
Morphy,  possibly  the  greatest  chess  player  of  all 
times.  One  of  their  number,  Alexander  Mouton, 
was  then  (1844)  governor  of  the  state.  He  had  be- 
fore that  represented  Louisiana  in  the  United  States 
Senate,  and  while  he  was  residing  in  Washington  the 
celebrated  sculptor  Powers  carved  "The  Greek 
Slave."  In  selecting  a  model  hand  for  this  famous 
statue  he  is  said  to  have  chosen  that  of  Mrs.  Mouton, 
who  was  noted  alike  for  the  beauty  of  her  face  and 
the  symmetry  of  her  form. 

The  next  morning  our  boat  reached  Baton  Rouge, 
one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  from  New  Orleans. 
Here  is  the  first  highland — a  beautiful  bluff  country 
fifty-five  feet  above  sea  level,  and  twelve  feet  above 
the  highest  overflow  ever  known  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley.  "There  was  a  tropical  sun  overhead  and  a 


76       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 

tropical  swelter  in  the  air,"  yet  it  is  never  so  hot  or 
so  cold  as  in  places  much  farther  north.  In  the  dark 
green  woods  are  countless  magnolias,  whose  flowers 
are  seldom  surpassed  for  size,  beauty  or  fragrance. 
These  fertile  bluff  lands,  rising  and  sinking  in  grace- 
ful curves,  well-wooded  and  well-watered,  the  home 
of  sunshine,  birds  and  flowers,  appear  to  have  been 
in  no  way  slighted  in  their  making.  Baton  Rouge 
was  then  a  sleepy  village;  now  it  is  a  brisk  city 
of  23,000  souls,  the  capital  of  the  state,  and  the  site 
of  the  Louisiana  State  University. 

Twenty  miles  above  Baton  Rouge  is  Port  Hudson, 
a  place  of  historic  interest  and  modern  unimpor- 
tance. Just  as  the  alluvial  lands  on  the  east  bank  give 
way  to  the  bluffs  at  Baton  Rouge,  so  here  at  Port 
Hudson  the  bluffs  give  place  to  the  hills.  These 
high  hills,  overlooking  the  river,  were  the  scenes  of 
some  severe  conflicts  in  the  Civil  War.  One  of 
these  was  the  night  battle  between  Farragut's  fleet 
and  the  Confederate  land  batteries,  April  14,  1863.* 

*  Nick  was  there  on  the  memorable  night  of  April  14th,  but,  being 
sergeant  of  the  guard,  was  in  a  place  of  comparative  safety — the  hot 
balls  and  lighted  bombs  passed  mostly  over  his  head.  While  the  superb 
pyrotechnic  display  was  in  operation,  he  wrote  the  following  parody  on 
an  old  hymn: 

When  I  can  see  a  blazing  bomb 

Come  whizzing  through  the  sky, 

I  bid  farewell  to  every  fear 

As  round  a  stump  I  fly. 


UP  THE  RED  RIVER 


77 


This  landscape  was  the  first  to  remind  Aunt 
Martha  of  the  hills  about  her  old  Georgia  home. 
With  Nick  in  her  arms, 
a  tear  stole  down  her 
cheek  as  the  scene 
awakened  in  her  mem- 
ories of  loved  ones  far 
away.  How  fortunate 
she  did  not  then  know 
that  that  baby  boy, 
eighteen  years  there- 
after, would  be  on 
that  very  spot  to  take 
part  in  one  of  the  most  terrific  struggles  of  modern 
times.* 

Fifty  miles  above  Port  Hudson  the  Red  River 
pours  its  reddish  water  into  the  Mississippi,  and  this 
tributary,  forty  miles  above  its  mouth,  receives  the 
dark  blue  waters  of  the  Ouachita.  These  two  rivers, 
Red  and  Ouachita,  recede  from  one  another  north- 
ward and  cross  the  north  boundary  of  the  state  more 
than  a  hundred  miles  apart.  *That  part  of  Louisiana 
lying  between  these  two  rivers  is  what  we  call  "North 
Central  Louisiana."  It  comprises  about  one-fifth  of 

*  At  Jackson,  La.,  which  is  about  twelve  miles  from  Port  Hudson,  was 
Centenary  College,  a  splendid  and  noted  institution  before  the  Civil 
War.  It  is  now  located  in  Shreveport. 


78       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 

the  state,  is  a  high  upland  region,  and  is  well  tim- 
bered; and  through  it  flow  numberless  branches  and 
creeks  of  clear  sweet  water.  Many  of  these  streams 
rise  in  Claiborne  Parish,  which  is  adjacent  to  Arkan- 
sas and  on  the  dividing  ridge  between  the  two  bor- 
dering rivers. 

The  most  fertile  lands  in  the  state  are  the  valleys  of 
its  great  rivers,  and  it  may  seem  queer  that  the  set- 
tlers (English)  from  the  older  states  did  not  secure 
places  in  these  richer  districts.  That  they  did  not  do 
so,  as  a  rule,  is  due  to  two  causes:  (1)  they  naturally 
sought  a  country  more  or  less  like  that  from  which 
they  came,  and  this  they  found  in  North-Central 
Louisiana,  with  its  hills  and  valleys,  clear  running 
streams,  and  springs  or  wells  of  pure  water;  (2)  they 
feared  the  river  lands  would  not  be  healthful.  While 
the  highlands  were  not  as  fertile  as  the  lowlands, 
they  had  a  rich  virgin  soil  and  many  beautiful  and 
productive  upland  valleys.  Here  was  the  promise  of 
health,  pleasure,  and  at  least  a  plenty  of  products. 

Uncle  Wash's  objective  point  was  some  place  in 
Claiborne  Parish,  and  his  route  lay  up  the  Red  River 
to  Shreveport,  and  thence  sixty  miles  east  by  wagons 
into  the  very  heart  of  "the  promised  land."  Landing 
at  Shreveport,  which  was  then  a  small  town,  he 
pitched  camp  on  the  spot  (then  in  the  woods)  where 
the  Majestic  Theater  now  stands. 


UP  THE  RED  RIVER 


79 


From  the  very  first,  Shreveport  has  had  all  the  ac- 
cessories necessary  to  a  steady  and  healthy  growth. 
It  lies  at  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Red  River,  is 
the  center  of  a  most  fertile  region,  was  a  frontier  sup- 
ply point  for  eastern  Texas  (then  Mexico),  and  later 
became  the  beneficiary  of  immense  oil  beds  and  the 
largest  gas  field  in  America.  Fortunately  its  citizens 
have  had  the  patriotism  and  the  good  business  judg- 
ment to  make  the  best  use  of  their  superb  opportuni- 
ties. From  a  small  pioneer  village  of  two  or  three 
stores,  as  Nick  first  saw  the  place,  it  has  expanded 
into  a  magnificent  city  of  35,000 
population,  having  ninety-five  in- 
dustries and  seventy-five  wholesale 
houses,  forty-two  miles  of  paved 
streets,  eleven  million  dollars  of 
bank  deposits  and  eleven  lines  of 
railroads,  together  with  public 
buildings,  churches, 
and  schoolhouses  un- 
surpassed in  architec- 
ture and  equipments. 


80       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 

Uncle  Wash,  having  secured  the  necessary  teams 
and  wagons,  crossed  the  Red  River  and  started  east 
on  the  "home  stretch"  of  the  long  journey.  He  soon 
discovered  that  the  road  in  the  swamp  was  unlike 
any  he  had  seen  in  the  older  states.  As  the  wagon 
and  oxen  sank  deep  into  the  soft  red  mud,  Uncle 
Nathan  remarked,  "Dis  road  don't  'pear  to  have  no 
bottom."  The  swamp  of  the  Red  River  is  about  ten 
miles  wide,  and  was  then  almost  impassable  on  ac- 
count of  the  many  bogs  and  unbridged  sloughs. 
These  places,  according  to  a  saying  of  the  settlers, 
"would  bog  the  shadow  of  a  buzzard."  But  the  in- 
stant the  situation  became  strenuous,  Uncle  Wash 
became  alert  and  settled  into  the  grim  reserve  that 
characterizes  the  man  who  takes  any  enterprise  se- 
riously, be  it  work  or  play. 

The  whole  day  was  occupied  in  crossing  the 
swamp.  Just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  the  travelers, 
wet,  tired,  muddy  and  hungry,  reached  the  piny  up- 
lands which  form  the  eastern  boundary  of  the  great 
valley.  Here  they  went  into  camp,  and  began  at 
once  to  "clean  up"  and  "dry  up" — ridding  the  stock 
and  wagon  of  mud  and  themselves  of  wet  and  muddy 
clothes.  This  "task  of  ablution  and  abstersion"  be- 
ing performed,  and  a  frugal  but  hearty  meal  eaten, 
Uncle  Wash  stretched  himself  out  on  his  improvised 
bed  of  cane  tops  and  blankets. 


UP  THE  RED  RIVER 


"My  dear,"  said  Aunt  Martha,  "you  have  cer- 
tainly earned  a  night's  repose.  Your  day's  work  has 
been  hard  and  steady,  and  few  could  have  managed 
it  all  so  well." 

"Martha,"  he  answered,  "often  the  only,  and  al- 
ways the  surest,  way  of  doing  a  thing  is  by  plugging 
away  at  it.  That's  my  principle  in  life.  Keep  at  it. 
In  work,  as  in  hunting,  that's  the  way  to  win.  True, 
the  way  is  hard,  but  overcoming  difficulties  is  the 


82       THE  STORY  OF  A  WESTWARD  MOVE 

glorious  part  of  it.  If  success  comes  easy,  we  care  but 
little  for  it;  if  it  comes  hard,  we  never  forget  the  ways 
and  means.  I  believe  the  real  value  of  a  thing  to 
anyone  is  to  be  measured  by  the  labor  and  skill  it 
cost  that  one  to  get  it." 

Early  the  next  morning  the  party  moved  on  into 
the  dense  woods.  What  there  was  of  road,  though 
narrow  and  rough,  was  at  least  firm,  a  quality  of  the 
soil  that  is  always  appreciated  by  the  traveler,  espe- 
cially just  after  crossing  a  "bottomless  swamp." 
Thirty  miles  from  Shreveport  they  crossed  the  Bayou 
Dorchete,  which  in  season  is  navigable  up  to  Min- 
den.  Beyond  this  stream  the  surface  of  the  land  was 
more  elevated  and  undulating,  having  an  average 
altitude  of  200  feet  above  sea  level  and  countless  hills 
and  valleys  running  in  every  direction. 

Far  in  the  interior  of  North-Central  Louisiana  is 
a  pretty  little  stream,  called  Parker's  Creek.  On  the 
banks  of  this  perennially  flowing  streamlet  a  pioneer 
had  made  a  settlement  consisting  of  a  few  cabins  and 
a  field  of  twenty  acres.  Desiring  to  move  farther 
west  so  as  to  get  "more  elbow  room,"  he  "sold  out" 
to  Uncle  Wash,  who  took  immediate  possession. 
With  the  cabins  renovated  and  enlarged  and  more 
land  opened,  Uncle  Wash  stayed  here  two  years 
and  then  moved  to  a  new  and  better  place,  as  de- 
scribed in  the  opening  chapter  of  this  book. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 

UNCLE  WASH  MOVES  FROM  CANE  RIDGE 

Early  in  the  year  1853  Uncle  Wash  moved  to  a 
place  some  fifteen  miles  west  of  Cane  Ridge.  His 
main  object  was  to  get  in  a  neighborhood  which  gave 
promise  of  maintaining  a  good  school.  Nick,  now  in 
his  ninth  year,  went  with  Aunt  Kitty  in  the  ox  wagon, 
of  which  Uncle  Nathan  was  the  driver.  The  rest  of 
the  party,  having  faster  teams,  went  on  ahead.  Nick 
had  Step,  the  fice,  with  him. 

The  boy  was  wild  with  joy,  thrilled  with  visions 
of  coming  scenes  and  events.  Nothing  along  the  way 
escaped  his  notice.  Here  and  there  were  branches 
whose  clear  water  flowed  over  pretty  pebbles  with  a 
sweet  murmur.  A  hornet's  nest,  shaped  like  a  water- 
melon, hung  from  the  limb  of  an  oak,  and  away  up  in 
the  top  of  a  tall  pine  an  eagle's  nest  looked  grand  and 
lonely.  In  the  bark  of  many  beech  trees  were  long 
scratches  made  by  bears  in  climbing  for  beechnuts. 
Now  and  then  Aunt  Kitty  gave  Nick  a  ginger-cake 

STORIES   OF   DIXIE. — t>          83 


84  A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 

smeared  with  jam.  They  stopped  to  get  some  water 
at  the  Sulphur  Springs,  and  Aunt  Kitty  remembered 
this  as  the  place  where  old  Bee,  the  buggy  mule,  once 
got  into  a  yellow  jacket's  nest. 

Nick  often  got  out  of  the  wagon  and  played  with 
Step  along  the  road.  Now  and  then  a  rabbit  sprang 
out  of  its  hiding  place  and  Step  chased  it  off  into  the 
woods.  At  one  time  Step  set  up  a  furious  barking  in 
the  bushes  near  the  road,  and  all  hands  went  to  see 
what  it  was  about.  Step  had  found  an  enemy  and 
looked  as  if  he  was  about  to  charge  it,  but  he  was 
very  careful  to  keep  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  ob- 
ject of  his  wrath.  It  was  a  monster  rattlesnake,  as 
large  around  as  a  man's  arm,  wound  into  a  great 
cott,  and  making  a  hideous  noise  with  its  rattles  as  if 
warning  everybody  to  keep  away.  Uncle  Nathan 
killed  it  with  a  stick.  There  were  eighteen  rattles 
on  the  end  of  its  tail,  which  showed,  according  to  the 
settler's  rule,  that  it  was  eighteen  years  old. 

Here  and  there  new  settlements  were  to  be  seen. 
People  were  then  moving  into  North-Central  Louis- 
iana at  a  rapid  rate.  They  came  mostly  from  Ala- 
bama and  Georgia,  but  there  were  many  from  all  the 
Southern  states,  and  a  few  from  the  North.  These 
new  settlers  were  active,  pushing  people,  as  settlers 
usually  are.  That  they  have  a  purpose  to  better  their 
condition,  and  the  industry  necessary  to  undertake  it, 


UNCLE  WASH  MOVES  85 

is  shown  by  their  very  presence  in  the  vanguard  of 
civilization. 

The  long  stillness  of  the  woods  was  being  broken 
by  the  hum  of  in- 
dustry; the  merry 
song  of  the  ham- 
mer and  the  sweet 
rasp  of  the  saw, 
mingled  with  the 
cheering  crow  of 
the  rooster  and  the  stirring  "gee"  and  "haw"  of 
the  plowman.  The  smoke  from  burning  logs  and 
brush  hovered  over  the  "new-grounds,"  and  the 
air  was  redolent  with  the  odor  of  fresh  burnt  woods. 
The  ax  and  the  maul,  the  hoe  and  the  plow,  were 
invading  the  dominion  of  bears  and  panthers,  wolves 
and  catamounts.  Indeed,  these  wild  animals  had  al- 
most disappeared;  only  a  few  straggling  ones  could 
be  seen  now  and  then. 

Among  other  things  that  had  disappeared  were  wild 
pigeons.  While  Uncle  Wash  was  living  at  Cane  Ridge 
they  came  annually,  sometimes  appearing  in  droves 
of  thousands.  Nick  often  saw  flocks  of  them  so  large 
as  to  darken  the  heavens  like  great  black  clouds. 
They  roosted  at  night  on  bushes,  and  kept  up  such  a 
clamor  that  they  could  be  heard  a  mile  or  more.  Near 
the  road  was  a  grove  of  very  crooked  pine  trees. 


86  A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 

Pointing  to  it  Uncle  Nathan 
said,  "Dat  was  once  a  pigin 
roos';  de  pigins  bent  'em  up 
dat  way  roos'in  on  'em 
when    dey    was    pine 
bushes." 

In  those  days  there 
were  many  violent 
storms  in  that 
_^  section,  the 
wrecks  of  which 
are  still  to  be  seen  in  many  places.  Early  in  the  af- 
ternoon Nathan,  looking  up  into  the  skies,  said:  "I 
do  b'leve  we's  gwine  to  have  a  storm."  Sure  enough, 
after  a  while,  dark  clouds  began  to  roll  over  their 
heads;  then  came  flashes  of  lightning  and  distant 
peals  of  thunder.  Even  the  oxen  seemed  to  know 
that  a  storm  was  coming,  for  they  struck  a  quicker 
gait,  as  if  wishing  to  get  out  of  the  tall  timber  as 
soon  as  they  could. 

The  storm  was  just  bursting  upon  them  as  they 
reached  the  new  settlement  of  Mr.  McClendon.  He 
saw  the  wagon  coming,  and  running  to  it  as  fast  as 
he  could  he  told  Nathan  to  drive  the  team  into  an 
open  place  just  ahead,  grasped  Nick  with  one  hand 
and  Aunt  Kitty  with  the  other,  and  ran  to  a  stout 
log  cabin  that  was  occupied  by  his  family.  His  larger 


UNCLE  WASH  MOVES  87 

log  residence  was  not  then  finished.  Everybody  was 
soon  huddled  in  the  cabin.  As  the  storm  grew  in 
uproar  and  vehemence,  all  became  more  frightened. 
It  is  queer  that  people  who  are  ordinarily  fearless  will 
cower  and  tremble  in  the  presence  of  a  storm.  In  their 
eagerness  to  get  into  the  safest  place  possible  the  men 
made  an  opening  in  the  floor  by  removing  two  punch- 
eons, and  through  this  opening  all  hands,  white  and 
black,  went  under  the  house.  The  storm  raged  and 
roared.  It  was  hard  to  tell  which  was  the  louder,  the 
howl  of  the  winds  or  the  roar  of  the  thunder. 

After  a  while  the  storm  passed  away,  leaving  be- 
hind it  a  wide  area  of  blown-down  trees.  Had  the 
cabin  been  in  the  main  path,  it  would  have  been 
swept  away.  Fortunately  no  one  was  hurt,  but  the 
place  was  almost  hemmed  in  by  fallen  timber.  Mr. 
McClendon  at  once  sent  a  runner  to  inform  Uncle 
Wash  that  "the  folks,  team,  and  wagon  were  all 
right."  Such  was  the  kindness  with  which  the  settlers 
treated  one  another,  especially  in  time  of  trouble  or 
sickness. 

After  the  storm,  for  some  distance  the  wagon  made 
slow  progress,  because  Uncle  Nathan  often  had  to 
stop  to  clear  the  road  of  logs  and  tree-tops.  Late 
in  the  afternoon  they  passed  the  home  of  Mr.  Tippit, 
and  there  Nick  saw  two  things  he  never  saw  before: 
brick  chimneys  and  glass  windows. 


88 


A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 


PROGRESSIVE  DEVELOP- 
MENT 

They  reached  their 
new  home  after  dark. 
Uncle  Wash  had  been 
there  the  year  before 
and  built  several  of  the  necessary  houses.  They 
were  not  finished  except  as  to  walls,  roofs,  and 
floors.  It  was  too  late  to  put  up  beds;  so  all  slept 
on  mattresses  laid  on  the  floors,  and  being  tired,  they 
slept  soundly.  Uncle  Wash  woke  them  early  the 
next  morning,  for  he  knew  there  was  much  to  be 
done. 

The  residence  was  an  eight-room  house,  having 
brick  chimneys  and  glass  windows,  a  wide  hall,  and 
a  wide  gallery  in  front.  The  other  buildings  and 
appurtenances, — kitchen,  dairy,  pantry,  smokehouse, 
negro  quarters,  shops,  ginhouse,  cotton  press,  garden, 


PROGRESSIVE  DEVELOPMENT  89 

barns,  horse  lot,  stalls,  cow  pen,  and  fields — were 
located  according  to  a  systematic  plan.  The  three 
main  objects  of  this  orderly  arrangement  were  con- 
venience, cleanliness,  and  attractiveness.  The  negro 
quarters  consisted  of  two  long  rows  of  comfortable 
cabins  separated  by  a  "street"  two  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  wide.  The  "big  house"  was  at  one  end  of  this 
street  and  the  shops  at  the  other. 

The  number  of  negroes  had  very  much  increased. 
Some  of  the  new  ones  had  been  bought,  but  the  most 
of  them  came  from  the  estate  of  Uncle  Wash's 
father.  Among  these  latter  was  old  Uncle  Jack,  the 
first  negro  ever  owned  by  Nick's  grandfather. 

"Martha,"  said  Uncle  Wash  to  his  wife  at  the 
breakfast  table,  "I  know  the  houses  are  not  finished, 
but  they  have  good  roofs  and  will  do  to  live  in  for  a 
while.  The  main  work  to  be  done  is  clearing  the  land 
and  raising  a  crop.  So  I'm  going  to  put  all  hands  to 
doing  this  work." 

"Now,  dear,"  replied  Aunt  Martha,  "that  is  all 
right  if  you  will  let  me  have  Uncle  Jack.  With  him, 
Kittie,  Caroline,  Mary  and  the  boys  (her  sons  Mat, 
Nick,  and  Tate),  I  can  begin  to  put  things  in  order 
about  the  house,  dairy,  kitchen,  and  smokehouse." 

"That  can  be  done  for  the  present,"  said  Uncle 
Wash,  "but  I  will  soon  need  the  boys  to  work  with 
the  'trash  gang.": 


90  A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 

Anyone,  male  or  female,  who  did  full  work  on  the 
farm  was  called  a  "hand."  But  there  was  always 
certain  light  work  that  the  children  could  do,  and  the 
boys  and  girls  so  assigned  formed  what  was  called  the 
"trash  gang." 

So  Aunt  Martha  began  work  indoors  with  the 
"house  gang,"  and  Uncle  Wash  outdoors  with  the 
hands  and  the  "trash  gang." 

Uncle  Wash  believed  in  making  his  sons  work.  At 
every  stage  of  their  growth,  when  they  were  not  in 
school,  tasks  were  assigned  them  regularly  in  the  fields 
and  shops.  His  chief  object  was  to  school  them  in  use- 
ful ways  and  habits.  In  common  with  thousands  he 
thought  that  most  of  the  best  and  greatest  men  in 
this  world  have  toiled  at  the  workbench  and  plow. 

Few  people  know  how  much  hard  work  it  takes  to 
change  a  heavy-timbered  tract  of  land  into  a  complete 
field.  The  way  Uncle  Wash  had  it  done  was,  briefly, 
as  follows: 

1.  Deaden  all  the  large  timber  with  axes. 

2.  Cut  the  logs  into  ten-foot  pieces,  and  roll  the 
pieces  into  "log  heaps." 

3.  Cut  down  all  the  bushes  and  saplings,  trim  up 
the  larger  ones,  and  pile  the  poles  and  brush  into 
"  brush-heaps." 

4.  Burn  the  log-heaps  and  brush-heaps  as  soon  as 
possible. 


PROGRESSIVE  DEVELOPMENT 


91 


5.  Cut  rail  timber,    split  it   into   rails,  and 
build  a  worm  fence  around  the  field.     Wire 
fences  were  not  then  in  existence. 

6.  Plow  the  ground   thoroughly,  using 
"colters"  at  the  first  plowing  to  cut 
the  roots. 

Not  many  landscapes  are  more  un- 
sightly than  a  "new-ground"  just  after 
its    first   plowing.     In    the  midst    of 
stumps     and     deadened     trees,     and 
tangles  of  roots 
and   briers, 
clods  and  frag- 
ments   of    up- 
turned turf  be- 
strew the  earth 
not  unlike  molten  rocks  in  a  desert  plain.     It  is  at 
best  a  discouraging  prospect. 

One  day  as  they  were  looking  over  the  rough 
and  ragged  scene,  Aunt  Martha  said  to  Uncle  Wash, 
"After  all  that  has  been  done,  how  much  more  hard 
work  it  will  take  to  put  this  in  a  tillable  state.  It  is 
enough  to  dishearten  one.  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
be  so  cheerful  about  it." 

"Martha,"  answered  he,  "I  have  not  much  educa- 
tion, but  I  do  know  that  everything  in  this  world 
that's  worth  while  comes  by  hard  work.  If  we  keep 


92  A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 

plugging  away  at  it,  success  will  come  after  a  while. 
In  the  meantime,  it  looks  like  nature  comes  in  to  help 
us.  We  will  be  helped  by  the  winds  in  felling  these 
trees,  by  decay  in  destroying  these  roots  and  stumps, 
and  by  the  sun  and  rain  in  pulverizing  these  clods." 

Uncle  Wash  often  illustrated  a  point  with  a  story. 
So  now  he  said, 

"I  think  there  is  a  fine  moral  in  the  old  story  about 
Uncle  Zeke.  Having  been  asked  if  his  prayers  were 
ever  answered,  he  replied,  'It's  owin'  to  de  natur  of 
de  pertition.  You  see  it's  like  dis :  when  I  prays  to  de 
Lawd  to  send  me  one  of  de  boss's  fat  chickens,  de 
chicken  don't  come;  but  when  I  prays  to  de  Lawd  to 
send  me  atter  de  chicken,  de  chicken  is  sho'  to  git 
dar  fo'  day.' 

"That  is,"  said  Uncle  Wash,  "the  Lord  helps  those 
who  do  most  of  the  work  themselves." 

A  mile  west  of  Uncle  Wash's  new  place  was  the 
beginning  of  a  little  village,  called  Forest  Grove.  It 
began  with  a  schoolhouse  and  a  store,  the  post  office 
being  located  in  the  latter.  In  a  few  years  it  be- 
came the  center  of  a  prosperous  neighborhood,  and  in 
the  meantime  a  large  church,  and  wood  and  black- 
smith shops  were  added. 

The  land  in  this  section  was  more  or  less  level,  just 
hilly  and  rolling  enough  to  afford  good  drainage. 
Many  clear  running  branches  flowed  through  it,  and 


PROGRESSIVE  DEVELOPMENT  93 

these,  coming  together,  formed  beautiful  creeks. 
The  land  was  easily  tilled,  and  on  it  a  variety  of 
crops  could  be  grown.  In  a  few  years  many  well-to- 
do  farmers  settled  in  the  community.  They  raised 
cotton  chiefly,  but  also  enough  corn,  oats,  potatoes, 
and  meat  for  home  use.  They  were  kind  and  polite 
to  guests  and  strangers.  No  one  passing  through  the 
country,  whether  rich  or  poor,  was  charged  anything 
for  a  night's  entertainment. 

To  show  how  little  the  men  and  boys  knew  or 
cared  for  fashion,  a  funny  incident  may  be  related 
here.  When  Uncle  Wash  lived  at  Cane  Ridge  he  and 
Dr.  Kidd  had  a  little  store,  and  on  severing  the  part- 
nership each  took  half  of  the  goods.  Uncle  Wash 
thus  came  to  have  three  silk  hats. 

Failing  to  sell  these  "two-story"  hats,  and  see- 
ing that  no  one  desired  them,  he  said  to  his  wife, 
"Martha,  the  boys  need  new  Sunday  hats,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  we  can  supply  them,  and  at  the 
same  time  avoid  expense,  by  giving  them  the  three 
silk  hats." 

Now  Martha,  having  a  great  deal  of  Irish  humor 
as  well  as  Irish  blood,  at  once  saw  how  absurd  and 
yet  how  funny  it  would  be.  So,  hiding  a  smile,  she 
said,  "All  right,  my  dear,  if  you  desire  it." 

Nick  was  about  eleven  years  old,  but  there  was  no 
trouble  in  fitting  him,  as  his  head  was  quite  large  for 


94 


A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 


his  age.    Paper  had  to  be  put  in  the  other  two  hats 
to  make  them  small  enough. 

The  next   Sunday   the  boys   arrayed   themselves 

in  homespun  suits, 
brogan  shoes,  and 
"two-story"  silk 
hats.  Thus  attired 
they  went  to  church, 
Mat  riding  one  mule 
and  Tate  riding  be- 
hind Nick  on  an- 
other. Arriving  at 
the  church,  they  dis- 
mounted, hitched  the 
mules  to  the  trees,  and  walked  abreast  toward  the 
building.  They  squared  their  shoulders  and  stepped 
proudly  when  they  saw  that  they  were  the  "observed 
of  all  observers." 

The  reader  must  not  infer  that  Nick  was  a  typical 
boy  of  Dixie  on  that  occasion,  for  it  is  probable  that 
no  other  boys  of  the  land  were  ever  rigged  out  in  that 
way,  before  or  since. 

Every  farmer  had  negroes,  more  or  less.  As  a  rule, 
they  were  well  cared  for,  partly  because  they  were 
valuable  property,  but  mostly  on  account  of  the  per- 
sonal regard  the  whites  had  for  them.  In  the  case  of 
old  family  servants  this  regard  amounted  to  real 


PROGRESSIVE  DEVELOPMENT  95 

love,  on  the  part  of  both  the  whites  and  the  blacks. 
In  this  community  there  were  exacting  but  no  cruel 
masters.  A  place  was  reserved  for  the  negroes  in  the 
church,  and  the  two  races  thus  worshiped  together 
every  Sunday.  The  writer  never  saw  an  exception  to 
this  statement  by  Henry  W.  Grady:  "The  one  char- 
acter utterly  condemned  and  ostracized  was  the  man 
who  was  mean  to  his  slaves.  For  the  cruel  master, 
there  was  no  toleration." 

Year  by  year  the  neighborhood  improved  in  every 
way.  The  country  was  becoming  pretty  thickly 
settled  by  civil  and  industrious  people.  Following 
them  came  better  roads  and  bridges,  brickyards  and 
lumber  mills,  improved  stock  and  vehicles,  finer 
houses  and  better  churches,  better  schoolhouses  and 
schools,  and  many  comforts  unknown  in  pioneer  life. 

Every  man  went  to  church  on  Sunday,  wearing  his 
best  clothes,  driving  his  best  team,  and  putting  on 
his  best  airs.  At  the  church  the  mules  and  horses 
were  hitched  to  the  trees,  the  women  went  at  once 
into  the  building,  and  the  men  gathered  in  front  of  it, 
talked  of  the  crops,  related  personal  "stunts," 
cracked  jokes,  and  chewed  tobacco.  These  per- 
formances were  presently  disturbed  by  the  singing 
within  of  some  old  hymn,  as:— 

"  When  I  can  read  my  title  clear 
To  mansions  in  the  skies, 


A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 


I'll  bid  farewell  to  every  fear 
And  wipe  my  weeping  eyes." 

This  was  the  signal  for  all  to  come  in,  and  in  they 
went,  hats  off,  heads  up,  and  eyes  to  the  front.  Each 
looked  as  if  he  felt  that  he  was  the  center  of  observa- 
tion. 


PROGRESSIVE  DEVELOPMENT  97 

The  sermons  were  usually  of  an  hour's  length,  and 
on  "big  occasions"  two  hours.  They  were  fluent, 
earnest,  and  thoughtful.  Now  and  then  the  climaxes 
(oral)  rose  to  such  heights  as  to  disturb  the  naps  of 
the  old  folks. 

After  the  services,  all  assembled  on  the  lawn  in 
front  of  the  church  and  there  was  a  regular  epidemic 
of  handshaking,  "  howdying,"  and  chatting.  It 
seemed  as  if  everybody  was  trying  to  get  everybody 
else  to  "go  home  with  them  to  dinner."  All  stran- 
gers and  visitors  were  specially  looked  after,  and  if 
any  failed  to  be  well  cared  for  it  was  his  own  fault. 

"Ben,"  said  John  as  they  rode  off  together,  "why 
are  people  so  talkative  just  after  coming  out  of 
church?" 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Ben,  "that  talk  just  nat- 
urally flows  out  of  some  people  like  water  out  of  a 
spring,  and  when  they  have  to  be  silent  for  a  bit,  as 
in  a  church,  it  dams  up  their  stream  of  talk,  and  the 
supply  thus  accumulates  until  their  reservoirs  are 
chock-full.  When  the  bars  to  speech  are  removed  the 
flood  gates  are  opened  and  the  pent-up  talk  pours 
forth  like  compressed  steam  from  a  mud- valve." 

"And  the  worst  of  it  is,"  replied  John,  "no  matter 
what  they  begin  to  talk  about  they  always  end  with 
talking  about  themselves." 


98  A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 

THE  FOREST  GROVE  SCHOOL 

The  school  at  Forest  Grove  kept  pace  with  the 
rapid  march  of  progress  everywhere  to  be  seen.  In 
comparison  with  the  Cane  Ridge  school  there  were 
now  better  books,  finer  equipments,  and  fitter  teach- 
ers. Chief  among  these  books  were  Davies's  arith- 
metics, Smith's  grammar,  Mitchell's  geographies, 
McGuffey's  readers,  and  Webster's  speller.  The 
switch  was  still  used,  but  not  so  much  as  in  the 
Cane  Ridge  school.  Under  the  old  regime  the  master 
went  at  it  as  if  it  were  a  manly  and  heroic  feat;  now 
the  teacher  prefaced  his  floggings  by  the  declaration: 
"  I  do  this  from  a  sense  of  duty,  and  I  assure  you  it 
does  not  hurt  you  one  whit  more  than  it  does  me." 

"So  we  boys  and  girls,"  said  Mark,  "were  bound  to 
admit  that  it  was  mighty  good  in  him  to  take  such 
an  interest  in  us,  yet  we  could  have  wished  him  less 
ready  to  sacrifice  himself."  The  new  plan  of  ruling 
pupils  by  "moral  suasion"  was  much  spoken  of  and 
strongly  advocated  by  persons  of  "progressive  edu- 
cational ideas."  An  old-time  teacher  speaking  of  it 
said:  "There  are  cases  it  will  not  reach,  but  you 
put  the  rod  to  them  and  they  will  hustle  like  a  ter- 
rapin with  a  coal  of  fire  on  his  back." 

There  were  no  public  schools  then  as  we  have  them 
now.  The  patrons,  and  not  the  state,  employed  the 


THE  FOREST  GROVE  SCHOOL  99 

teachers  and  paid  them  for  their  services.  The  tui- 
tion fees  were  $2,  $3,  and  $4  per  month,  according 
as  the  pupil  was  in  a  lower  or  higher  class.  The  state 
paid  the  school  a  small  sum,  and  each  patron's  pro 
rata  share  of  this  "public  money"  was  deducted 
from  his  tuition  bill. 

The  school  "took  in"  at  8  o'clock  A.  M.,  and 
"  turned  out "  at  5  o'clock  p.  M.  In  the  morning  about 
10  and  in  the  afternoon  about  3:30  there  was  a  short 
recess.  From  12  to  1:30  was  "dinner  time"  and 
"play  time."  The  playground  of  the  boys  was  in 
front  of  the  schoolhouse  and  that  of  the  girls  was  in  the 
rear  of  it.  The  games  played  by  the  boys  were  town 
ball,  bull  pen,  roly  hole,  mumble  the  peg,  marbles, 
hats,  broad  and  high  jumps,  three  jumps,  and  "half 
hammon."  Another  favorite  game  was  "deer."  The 
boy  who  could  run  fastest  and  longest  usually  played 
deer,  and  all  the  others  were  the  dogs.  The  dogs  would 
pursue  the  deer  through  the  near-by  fields  and  woods, 
and  the  chase  often  lasted  during  the  entire  play  time. 

Up  to  that  time  few  countries  ever  sent  a  greater 
proportion  of  their  sons  to  college  than  did  the  South. 
The  favorite  colleges  were  Yale,  Princeton,  and  the 
University  of  Virginia,  though  many  excellent  ones 
nearer  home  were  liberally  patronized.  Many  of 
these  bright  young  graduates  began  life  as  teachers, 
expecting  later  on  to  take  up  the  study  and  practice 

STORIES   OF    DIXIE.— 7 


100  A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 

of  law,  medicine,  or  engineering.  Three  of  these, 
Griggs,  Simmons,  and  Boring,  were  the  successive 
principals  of  the  Forest  Grove  school,  and  they  were 
men  of  ability  and  culture. 

With  them  the  chief  end  of  education  was  culture, 
and  the  basis  of  all  culture  was  good  spelling,  reading, 
and  writing.  Every  student,  however  high  his  studies 
or  standing,  had  to  recite  once  a  day  in  the  "big 
spelling  class."  The  written  tests  in  any  subject  were 
"deficient"  unless  the  spelling  and  writing  were  good. 
This  is  illustrated  in  the  following  incident: 

Nick  and  two  other  lads,  Toab  and  Charlie,  were 
studying  elementary  algebra.  At  a  certain  recitation 
Toab  was  sent  to  the  board  to  solve  a  problem  about 
dividing  an  estate  between  a  widow,  two  sons,  and 
three  daughters.  According  to  the  requirements  he 
wrote  the  solution  in  full,  with  much  regard  for  form, 
clearness,  spelling,  and  punctuation.  But  with  all 
his  care  he  made  the  mistake  of  writing  "wider"  for 
widow. 

"Toab,"  said  the  teacher,  "I  am  surprised  to  see 
that  you  do  not  know  how  to  spell  widow." 

Toab  at  once  erased  "wider,"  and  with  an  air 
which  seemed  to  say,  "Of  course  I  know  better  than 
that,"  wrote  "widor." 

"Charles,"  said  the  teacher,  "go  to  the  board  and 
show  Toab  how  to  spell  widow." 


THE  FOREST  GROVE  SCHOOL 


101 


Charles  was  a  vain  fellow,  and  thinking  he  had  a 
sure  thing  of  it,  strutted  up  to  the  board,  erased 
"widor"  and  wrote  "widder." 

"Nick,  go  and  show  those  ignorant  boys  how  to 
spell  widow,"  ordered  the  teacher. 

Now  Nick  thought  his  time  of  triumph  had  come, 
because  he  could  not  conceive  of  more  than  one 


other  way  in  which  the  thing  could  be  done.  So  he 
stepped  boldly  forward,  erased  "widder"  and  wrote 
"widdor." 

It  is  safe  to  say  that,  after  that  impressive  school- 
ing, those  boys  never  forgot  how  to  spell  that  highly 
respected  word. 

The  funniest  stories  are  those  of  incidents  which 
actually  occurred,  like  the  above  and  the  following 
one,  though  they  are  never  so  funny  in  the  telling 
as  in  the  doing  of  the  thing  itself. 

One  of  the  little  fellows  was  given  the  word  "squir- 
rel" to  spell.  He  hesitated,  because  he  did  not  know 


102  A  TYPICAL  NEIGHBORHOOD 

how  to  make  a  start,  much  less  how  to  proceed  after 
he  had  started.  Being  pressed  by  the  teacher,  and 
feeling  that  he  just  had  to  do  it  some  way  or  another, 
he  made  a  pass  at  it  by  exclaiming,  "sque-didle-dy." 

Every  Friday  afternoon  the  students,  large  and 
small,  had  to  "speak."  Nowadays  it  is  called  recit- 
ing. Occasionally  it  was  "public  Friday,"  at  which 
times  the  parents  and  the  public  were  invited  to  at- 
tend. On  these  public  occasions  the  boys  and  girls 
wore  their  Sunday  clothes,  and  were  washed  and 
dressed  beyond  a  state  of  naturalness  and  comfort. 
There  were  reserved  seats  for  the  guests.  The  master 
called  out  the  speakers,  one  at  a  time,  beginning  with 
the  smallest. 

Each  speech  began  and  ended  with  a  "bow,"- 
often  a  quick  nod  or  jerk  of  the  head,  as  if  the  speaker 
wished  to  get  through  with  the  performance  as  soon 
as  possible.  None  had  been  trained  in  the  "art  of 
expression,"  yet  many  bowed  gracefully,  and  spoke 
deliberately,  clearly,  and  impressively.  The  program 
was  about  as  follows: 

1.  A  boy.  "I  like  to  see  the  growing  grass, 

Before  the  farmer  mows  it, 
I  like  to  see  the  pacing  horse 
'Cause  when  he  goes  he  goes  it." 

2.  A  girl.  "I  had  a  little  bunty  hen, 

Which  mama  gave  to  me, 


THE  FOREST  GROVE  SCHOOL 


103 


Every  day  she  laid  two  eggs, 
And  Sunday  she  laid  three." 

9.  A  boy.  "The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck, 

Whence  all  but  him  had  fled,"  and  so 
on. 

10.  A  girl.  "I  met  a  little  cottage  girl, 

She  was  eight  years  old,  she  said,"  etc. 

19.  A  boy.  "On  Linden  when  the  sun  was  low, 

All  bloodless  lay  the  untrod'n  snow." 

20.  A  girl.  "Stay,  jailer,  stay,  and  hear  my  woe," 

etc. 

49.  A  boy.  "They  tell  us  that  we  are  weak,"  etc. 

50.  A  girl.  "There 
was  a  sound  of 
revelry    by 
night,"  etc. 

Some  very  funny 
things  happened  at 
these  speakings. 
Little  Charlie  once 
began  and  ended  as 
follows: 

"I  like  to  see  a  little  dog, 
And  pat  him  on  the— Oh !— Oh !— " 

Thus  breaking  down,  he  stammered,   "Oh!  Mr. 
Boring,  everybody  is  looking  right  straight  at  me." 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

TYPICAL  OF  DIXIE 

As  before  stated,  North-Central  Louisiana  was 
settled  by  English-speaking  people — those  whose 
forefathers  came  from  England,  Ireland,  or  Scotland. 
Few  new  countries  were  ever  blessed  with  a  better 
class  of  citizens.  They  came  from  all  parts  of  the 
South,  attracted  by  the  salubrity  of  the  region,  the 
fertility  of  the  soil,  and  the  abundance  of  pure  water, 
timber,  and  game.  Each  of  the  older  states  of  Dixie 
was  represented  there  by  hundreds  of  its  best  men 
and  women.  Probably  no  other  section  of  .the  South 
was  so  typical  of  Dixie  as  a  whole.  There  the  Vir- 
ginian, the  South  Carolinian,  the  Kentuckian,  and 
the  Georgian  came  together,  bringing  and  blending 
their  ideals,  manners,  and  customs.  It  was  Dixie 
in  a  nutshell. 

Many  towns  and  cities  have  crooked  streets,  owing 
to  their  having  been  built  along  winding  roads  or 
streams.  This  was  not  the  case  with  Homer,  the 
county  seat  of  Claiborne  Parish.  It  was  located  "at 

104 


TWO  GOOD  SIGNS  105 

the  center  of  the  parish."  Fortunately  the  site  thus 
determined  (seven  miles  west  of  Forest  Grove)  was 
a  beautiful  one,  and  in  the  woods.  There  were  no 
roads,  streams,  or  buildings  to  interfere  with  an  ideal 
plan,  and  the  citizens  had  the  good  sense  to  lay  off  the 
town  in  square  "blocks."  Hence  all  the  streets  are 
straight  and  cross  one  another  at  right  angles.  The 
same  good  taste  and  judgment  were  exercised  in 
building  the  residences  and  gardens,  so  that  Homer 
is  now,  and  always  has  been,  one  of  the  prettiest  and 
cleanest  inland  towns  in  the  South.  The  courthouse, 
a  two-story  building  surrounded  by  an  imposing 
peristyle  of  massive  columns,  stands  alone  on  the  cen- 
tral square,  and  facing  it  on  all  sides  are  stores  and 
offices,  as  in  most  Southern  county  seats. 

Two  GOOD  SIGNS 

Two  of  the  best  signs  of  an  alert  and  progressive 
people  are  good  roads  and  good  schools.  While  these, 
in  that  section,  were  in  many  ways  deficient,  they 
were  pretty  good  for  a  new  country.  The  roads  were 
worked  regularly  by  the  people  at  large,  white  and 
black,  under  the  direction  of  an  overseer  appointed 
by  the  Police  Jury.  The  streams  were  well  bridged, 
and  the  roads  through  the  swamps  and  low  places 
causewayed.  In  thinly  settled  districts  the  school- 


106     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

houses  were  often  crude  and  the  schools  poorly  at- 
tended; but  in  the  more  prosperous  neighborhoods 
the  schools  were  similar  to  that  of  Forest  Grove. 

That  some  of  the  schools  were  of  high  order  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  many  of  the  teachers  were 
graduates  of  the  best  colleges  of  the  country.  Two  of 
these  principals  were  Edwin  Fay,  a  graduate  of  Har- 
vard University,  who  subsequently  became  the  State 
Superintendent  of  education,  and  David  F.  Boyd,  a 
graduate  of  the  University  of  Virginia,  and  after- 
wards President  of  the  State  University. 

This  promising  state  of  affairs  was  the  outgrowth 
of  a  condition  and  a  force  which  always  make  for 
good:  (1)  the  people  at  large  were  sturdy  and  sensible; 
(2)  there  were  among  them  many  well  educated  and 
public-spirited  men  and  women.  That  some  of  them 
were  tasty,  if  not  classic,  is  shown  by  the  names  they 
gave  the  towns  and  villages;  such  as  Homer,  Athens, 
Sparta,  Lisbon,  Minden,  Vienna,  Tulip,  Trenton, 
Vernon,  and  Arcadia. 

THE  GEE  PLACE 

Twelve  miles  east  of  Homer  is  an  old  place  which 
has  a  history  of  more  than  local  interest  on  account 
of  its  connection  with  certain  noted  men  and  events. 
This,  known  as  the  "Gee  Place,"  has  been  the  scene 


THE  GEE  PLACE  107 

of  many  a  gay  party;  and  many  a  traveler,  rich  and 
poor,  has  found  a  hearty  welcome  within  its  walls. 

It  was  settled  by  Major  James  Dyer  in  1822.  He 
was  an  old  soldier  of  the  war  of  1812,  and  was  with 
General  Jackson  in  the  battle  of  New  Orleans. 
Claiborne  Parish  was  created  at  his  suggestion  and 
largely  by  his  untiring  efforts,  and  he  was  its  first 
representative  in  the  state  legislature.  On  account 
of  his  witty,  wise,  and  terse  sayings,  he  was  known 
as  the  Benjamin  Franklin  of  the  parish.  He  came 
from  Missouri  to  Louisiana. 

The  most  noted  brigand  that  ever  figured  in  the 
land  of  Dixie  was  John  Murel,  and  he  had  much  to 
do,  in  an  indirect  way,  with  making  the  Gee  Place 
an  ideal  old  Southern  home.  His  home  was  in 
Tennessee,  but  he  was  the  leader  of  a  large  band  of 
robbers  who  stole  and  sold  negroes,  horses,  and  cattle 
all  up  and  down  the  Mississippi  Valley.  There  were 
gangs  of  these  robbers  at  different  places — in  the 
towns  and  woods  and  on  the  islands  in  the  rivers — 
and  these  gangs  helped  one  another  in  disposing  of 
the  plunder. 

Murel  was  a  dashing,  fine-looking  fellow,  fairly 
well  educated,  and  a  good  speaker.  He  knew  much 
about  the  Bible,  and  when  it  suited  his  wicked  pur- 
poses he  pretended  to  be  a  preacher.  Frequently 
he  preached  to  assemblies,  large  and  small,  and  while 


108     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

the  people  were  enjoying  his  "fine  sermons"  on  good 
morals  and  high  ideals  his  men  crept  up  out  of  the 
woods  and  stole  their  horses. 

S.  P.  Gee  was  born  and  reared  in  Tennessee.    He 

was  a  bright  and  well 
educated  man,  and  began 
life  as  a  teacher.  While 
yet  a  young  man  he 
moved  to  Mississippi, 
and  settled  near  Rocky 
Springs,  a  few  miles  east 
of  Vicksburg.  There  he 
met  the  beautiful  Miss 
Brock,  a  daughter  of  one 
of  Mississippi's  wealthy  planters.  Each  was  at- 
tracted by  the  good  qualities  of  the  other,  and  they 
became  man  and  wife. 

Many  good  men  desired  to  bring  Murel  to  trial 
and  break  up  his  band  of  robbers.  But  they  failed 
to  do  so,  probably  on  account  of  the  lack  of  any 
definite  proof  as  to  Murel's  guilt,  and  also  because 
Murel  had  many  friends  who  would  probably  have 
resented  his  prosecution.  Now  Mr.  Gee  had  a  brave 
young  friend  named  Stewart,  to  whom  he  said, 

"Stewart,  it  is  not  always  the  things  that  can  be 
demonstrated  of  which  we  are  the  most  sure.  I  am 
confident  that  Murel  is  a  very  bad  and  dangerous 


THE  GEE  PLACE  109 

man,  and  if  you  will  get  the  proofs  of  it  I  will  prose- 
cute him." 

"All  right,"  said  Stewart,  "I'll  do  the  best  I  can," 
and  straightway  started  on  his  hazardous  under- 
taking. After  many  unsuccessful  attempts,  and  be- 
lieving that  "the  end  justified  the  means"  he  joined 
Murel's  clan,  took  the  oath,  and  was  given  their 
secret  passwords  and  grips.  He  then  visited  several 
of  their  camps  and  learned  all  about  them. 

He  brought  back  such  reports  of  the  large  number 
of  men  in  the  service  of  Murel  that  Mr.  Gee  laid  the 
matter  before  the  governor  of  the  state,  and  asked 
him  for  the  help  of  the  state  militia  in  arresting  the 
outlaws.  So  Murel  was  arrested,  tried,  convicted, 
and  sentenced  to  the  penitentiary.  But  Gee  and 
Stewart  had  to  leave  the  state  to  avoid  being  killed 
by  some  of  Murel's  men.  Mr.  Gee  sold  his  property 
and  took  his  wife  to  some  city  in  the  North.  After 
living  there  a  year  he  went  into  the  wilds  of  North 
Louisiana  and  bought  the  Dyer  place  in  1836.  One 
of  Murel's  men  followed  him  even  to  this  secluded 
spot,  and  would  have  killed  him  had  it  not  been  for 
the  brave  and  timely  help  of  one  of  Mr.  Gee's  negro 
men. 

Mr.  Gee  became  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in 
North-Central  Louisiana.  He  built  a  beautiful 
home,  and  surrounded  it  with  pretty  gardens,  flowers, 


110     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

and  walks.  His  large  farm  was  a  model  in  all  that 
goes  to  make  a  farm  attractive  and  productive.  The 
roads  through  it  reminded  one  of  paved  streets,  and 
even  along  the  fences  and  branches  there  were  no 
weeds  or  bushes.  The  spacious  barns  seemed  burst- 


ing with  corn  and  fodder,  and  the  horses,  cows,  and 
hogs  looked  as  if  they  felt  that  way.  There  was 
everywhere  a  seeming  rivalry  between  cleanliness 
and  abundance.  Here  the  traveler  found  rest  and 
the  hungry  food,  and  that  "without  money  and 
without  price." 

Mr.  Gee  died  in  1863,  and  after  his  death  Mrs. 


THE  GEE  PLACE  111 

Gee  told  Mr.  Hilley,  her  son-in-law,  the  following 
story,  making  him  promise  not  to  repeat  it  to  any- 
one during  her  lifetime.  The  story  is  in  relation  to 
two  of  Mr.  Gee's  friends,  Major  McEnery  and  Dr. 
Egan,  with  whom  the  reader  should  have  some  ac- 
quaintance in  order  to  appreciate  it. 

Major  McEnery  was  a  Virginian,  a  ripe  scholar, 
and  an  able  lawyer.  He  served  in  the  war  of  1812, 
being  the  major  of  a  regiment.  Subsequently  he 
moved  to  Louisiana,  and  settled  in  Monroe,  where  he 
practiced  his  profession.  He  was  the  father  of  John 
and  Samuel  McEnery,  both  of  whom  became  gov- 
ernors of  the  state. 

Dr.  Bartholomew  Egan  was  born  in  Ireland  and 
educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  He  was  learned 
in  the  classics  and  also  in  the  science  and  art  of 
medicine.  He  was  brought  to  this  country  by 
Thomas  Jefferson  to  be  a  professor  in  the  University 
of  Virginia.  Later  on,  he  began  the  practice  of 
medicine,  and  became  the  surgeon  of  the  regiment 
of  which  McEnery  was  the  major.  Some  time 
after  the  war  he  moved  to  North-Central  Louisiana, 
where  he  lived  and  died.  He  was  the  father  of  Hon. 
W.  B.  Egan,  one  of  the  supreme  judges  of  the  state, 
and  also  of  Dr.  J.  C.  Egan,  a  noted  physician  of 
Shreveport. 

One   cold    winter    afternoon,  away   back    in    the 


112     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

forties,  according  to  Mrs.  Gee's  story,  she,  Dr. 
Egan,  and  Mr.  Gee,  were  seated  by  a  warm  fire  in 
her  parlor.  There  was  a  "hello"  at  the  front  gate, 
and  Mr.  Gee,  on  going  out,  was  rejoiced  to  see  his 
old  friend  Major  McEnery.  As  they  walked  toward 
the  house  Mr.  Gee  casually  stated  that  Dr.  Egan 
had  also  stopped  to  spend  the  night. 

The  major,  halting,  said,  "Then,  you  must  excuse 
me;  I  shall  go  on  to  the  next  place." 

"You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Mr.  Gee. 
"I  did  not  know  of  any  difference  between  you  and 
the  doctor.  If  there  is  any,  I  can  put  you  in  separate 
rooms." 

"No,"  said  the  major,  "I  would  not  put  you  to 
that  trouble.  I  will  go  in  the  room  where  Dr.  Egan 
is,  if  you  and  Mrs.  Gee  will  not  be  offended  by  my 
ignoring  him  altogether." 

In  the  meantime  Dr.  Egan,  looking  through  the 
window,  saw  Mr.  Gee  and  the  major  enter  the  front 
gate,  and  at  once  said  to  Mrs.  Gee,  "If  Major 
McEnery  comes  into  this  room,  you  and  Mr.  Gee 
must  permit  me  to  ignore  him  entirely." 

Mr.  Gee  went  alone  into  the  room,  had  a  short 
conference  with  his  wife  and  the  doctor,  and  return- 
ing to  the  major  said,  "It  is  all  right,  major;  come 
in." 

Seated  around  a  cheerful  fire  the  party  talked, 


THE  GEE  PLACE  113 

told  stories,  and  laughed;  but  neither  the  doctor 
nor  the  major  made  any  reply  (and  seemingly  paid 
no  attention)  to  anything  the  other  said.  This  con- 
duct continued  at  the  table,  during  the  evening,  and 
the  next  morning  until  the  visitors  left. 


Major  McEnery  was  the  last  to  leave;  taking  his 
host  by  the  hand,  he  said,  "I  owe  you  and  Mrs. 
Gee  an  apology,  and  I  ask  you  to  receive  my  state- 
ment in  confidence.  Dr.  Egan  and  I  were  friends  in 
Virginia,  and  served  in  the  same  regiment.  We  had 
a  quarrel;  it  led  to  a  duel  between  us;  there  was 
one  exchange  of  shots;  each  of  us  called  for  another; 
our  seconds  said  that  was  enough;  we  separated 


114     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

without  being  restored  to  friendship,  and  so  the 
matter  has  stood  ever  since." 

Soon  after  Mrs.  Gee's  death  Mr.  Hilley,  who  now 
resides  in  Shreveport,  told  Nick  the  story  of  the  Gee 
Place.  Many,  many  years  after  that,  Samuel 
McEnery  became  governor  of  the  state.  One  day 
Nick  went  into  the  governor's  office,  and  finding 
him  alone,  related  to  him  the  story  of  the  singular 
meeting  of  his  father  and  Dr.  Egan. 

The  governor  listened  intently  to  Nick  until  he 
finished,  and  then  said, 

"Nick,  every  word  of  that  is  true,  but  I  did  not 
think  anyone  knew  anything  about  it  except  the 
older  members  of  the  two  families.  Soon  after  Dr. 
Egan  and  my  father  died  their  sons  came  together 
and  agreed  not  to  prolong  the  feud  of  their  fathers. 
So  the  matter  was  dropped  and  forgotten,  and  there 
are  now  no  closer  or  warmer  friends  in  the  state  than 
the  sons  of  those  two  good  men." 

A  PEACEFUL  AND  PROSPEROUS  LAND 

Eight  public  roads  started  from  Homer  and  led 
in  different  directions,  not  unlike  spokes  diverging 
from  the  hub  of  a  wheel.  Along  these  thorough- 
fares, for  miles  and  miles,  were  beautiful  homes  and 
prosperous  farms,  many  of  them  resembling  and 


A  PEACEFUL  AND  PROSPEROUS  LAND     115 


rivaling  the  Gee  Place  in  appearance  and  magnitude, 
resources  and  hospitality.  The  residences,  standing 
in  the  center  of  large  grounds,  nestled  in  swelling 
masses  of  semi-tropical  plants  and  exotics  of  many  a 
hue.  Everywhere  were  the  signs  of  an  active,  tasty, 
intelligent,  and  practical  population. 

The  owners  of  these  homes  were  not  generally 
men  of  high  academic  culture,  but  with  a  "grammar- 
school  education"  they  had  that  culture  which  comes 
from  handling  important  affairs,  reading  current 
events  of  parish,  state,  and  nation,  associating 
with  civil  and  well-to-do 
people,  and  aiming  al- 
ways to  play  the  role  of 
"the  gentleman"  in 
all  their  dealings 
with  their  neighbors 
and  slaves,  and  es- 
pecially with 
strangers.  Of 
course  there 


STORIES   OF    DIXIE. — 8 


116     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

were  exceptions.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  were  shiftless 
men  and  women,  rowdies  and  blackguards.  But,  as 
a  rule,  the  men  who  directed  public  affairs  and 
molded  public  sentiment  were  upright,  intelligent 
and  forceful.  Nor  were  such  men  confined  to  any 
particular  walk  of  life.  Men  of  brains  and  character 
were  to  be  found  among  the  lawyers  and  doctors, 
ministers  and  farmers,  merchants,  educators  and  ed- 
itors. A  scholar  who  has  read  much  and  traveled 
more,  and  who  knew  that  section  of  the  state  inti- 
mately as  it  was  before  the  Civil  War,  recently  said, 

"On  the  whole,  I  could  have  selected  an  abler 
body  of  men  from  North  Louisiana  in  1860  than  I 
have  ever  seen  assembled  in  the  capital  of  any  state, 
North  or  South." 

But  the  thrifty  air  of  that  once  prosperous  region 
has  disappeared.  The  town  (Homer)  has  improved, 
but  the  surrounding  country  has  deteriorated  in 
many  ways.  All  rejoice  in  the  freedom  of  the  negro, 
yet  it  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  a  number  of  homes, 
improvements,  and  good  old  customs  were  swept 
away  when  slavery  was  abolished. 


RELIGION  AND  CHURCHES  117 

RELIGION  AND  CHURCHES 

When  the  complete  history  of  the  development  of 
the  country  is  written,  no  part  of  it  will  shine  with 
greater  splendor  and  none  will  furnish  more  ex- 
amples of  self-sacrificing  devotion  to  duty  than 
the  work  wrought  by  the  Christian  ministers.  In 
sunshine  and  in  showers,  often  in  hunger  and  in 
tattered  clothes,  traveling  where  there  were  no  roads, 
and  sleeping  where  there  were  no  beds,  they  toiled 
for  the  spread  of  the  gospel  and  the  betterment 
of  their  fellow-creatures.  With  busybodies  of  this 
character  northern  Louisiana  was  blessed  in  every 
stage  of  its  development. 

Churches  sprang  up  in  all  the  towns  and  villages 
and  at  some  of  the  most  frequented  crossroads. 
Many  of  these  houses  of  worship  had  their  origin 
in  brush  arbors  and  crude  log  cabins,  but,  with  the 
increase  in  population  and  wealth,  they  grew  in 
size,  equipments,  and  architectural  design  and  finish. 
Few  other  sections  of  the  country  now  have  hand- 
somer and  more  costly  church  edifices. 

In  influence  and  numbers  the  leading  churches 
were  the  Methodist  and  the  Baptist,  and  next  to 
these  came  the  Presbyterian.  The  ministers  of  these 
several  sects  were  devout  and  zealous,  some  of  them 
having  ability  of  the  highest  order.  With  their 


118     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

fluency  of  speech,  logical  skill,  and  imaginative  force, 
they  were  always  popular  and  instructive,  and  often 
overpowering  in  their  pulpit  efforts.  A  few  of  the 
more  brilliant  were  Randle,  Wafer,  Cravens,  Parker, 
Slack,  Ford,  Bright,  Haislip,  Moreland,  and  Harris.* 

In  ideals,  convictions,  and  habits  the  people  were 
largely  puritanic.  Scarcely  could  a  neighborhood 
be  found  in  which  dancing  or  card  playing  was 
practiced,  and  the  observance  of  Sunday  was  almost 
universal. 

Of  course  there  were  exceptions,  even  among  the 
better  classes.  The  author  cannot  vouch  for  the 
following  story  as  to  fact,  but  it  is  true  as  to  condi- 
tions; that  is,  it  might  have  been.  The  persons 
named  were  well  known  to  the  writer,  and  it  was  like 
them  to  have  done  as  represented. 

Brother  John  was  a  Georgian  and  a  good  Method- 
ist, and  Brother  Ben  was  a  South  Carolinian  and  a 
good  Baptist.  They  were  neighbors  and  friends, 
witty  and  full  of  good  humor,  good  shots  and  fond 
of  hunting,  and  withal  representatives  of  two  of  the 
best  families  of  the  country.  With  respect  to  the 
observance  of  Sunday  they  were  alike  in  that  "while 
the  spirit  was  willing  the  flesh  was  weak,"  especially 
during  the  "gobbling-season." 

*  Rev.  Harris  was  the  father  of  the  present  brilliant  State  Superin- 
tendent of  Education. 


RELIGION  AND  CHURCHES  119 

One  bright  Sunday  morning  Brothers  Ben  and 
John  were  riding  along  a  country  road  on  their  way 
to  church.  The  dew  glistened  on  the  grass  and  the 
birds  sang  in  every  tree.  There  was  a  touch  of  spring- 
time resurrection  in  the  pure  woodland  air,  and  the 
bursting  buds  gave  mute  expression  to  the  joy  of 
life.  A  flock  of  wild  turkeys  was  feeding  in  the 


woods,  and,  seeing  the  horsemen,  struck  a  swinging 
trot  and  moved  off  like  shadows  to  a  near-by  copse. 

Brothers  Ben  and  John  at  once  became  silent, 
sucked  their  pipes  hard  and  sent  forth,  under  much 
pressure,  wisps  of  smoke  into  the  air.  "John," 
said  Brother  Ben  finally,  "it  has  just  occurred  to 
me  that  I  left  the  cows  in  the  pen,  and  I  must  re- 
turn at  once  and  let  them  out." 

Now  Brother  John,  being  left  alone,  also  re- 
turned, taking  a  different  route.  Soon  afterwards, 
Brother  Ben,  having  obtained  his  gun,  was  crawling 


120     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

along  on  his  all-fours  near  where  he  had  seen  the 
turkeys,  screening  himself  behind  a  large  log  in  front 
of  him.  On  reaching  the  log  he  heard  a  noise  on 
the  other  side,  and  believing  it  to  be  caused  by  a 
turkey,  peeped  over;  Brother  John,  also  thinking 
that  he  was  about  to  get  a  gobbler,  peeped  over 
from  the  other  side,  and  the  two  gazed  into  each 
other's  eyes. 

Being  surprised  and  somewhat  abashed  both  were 
silent  for  a  moment,  then  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh. 
Brother  John,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eyes, 
took  the  other  by  the  hand  and  said,  "Brother  Ben, 
let  me  congratulate  you  on  joining  the  coterie  of 
Louisiana  gentlemen." 

In  the  same  jocular  tone  and  spirit  Brother  Ben 
replied,  "Brother  John,  every  South  Carolinian  likes 
to  associate  with  gentlemen;  indeed,  speaking  rev- 
erently, in  that  upper  and  better  world  to  which  I 
hope  we  are  all  going,  I  really  have  less  desire  to 
sit  with  the  angels  than  to  stand  among  the  gentle- 
men." 

INTRODUCING  OAT 

Life  in  North-Central  Louisiana  had  its  humorous 
as  well  as  its  serious  side.  Probably  the  wisest  advice 
Dickens  ever  gave  the  world  was  to  "keep  jolly." 
He  himself  was  a  public  benefactor  in  that  he  so 


INTRODUCING  OAT 


121 


often  made  the  world  laugh.  It  is  well  to  grow  to 
manhood  or  womanhood  without  losing  a  child's 
capacity  for  enjoyment,  and  this  is  what  the  people 
of  that  section  largely  did.  One  of  the  most  familiar 
sounds  in  the  house  and  on  the  farm,  in  the  office  or 
on  the  street,  was  hearty  laughter.  All  classes  seemed 
to  be  capable  of  joy  without  knowing  the  reason  why. 
"Oh,"  once  exclaimed  a  young  lady,  "I  am  just 
flooded  with  enthusiasm  for — nobody  knows  what." 

In  such  an  atmosphere,  as 
one  would  suppose,  many  wits 
and  fun  makers  sprang  up. 
Prominent  among  these  was 
"Oat."     As   several   of   his 
jokes  will  be  related  in  these 
chronicles,    probably    the 
reader  would   like   to   be- 
come     somewhat 
quainted  with  him  at 
the  outset.     His  real 
name    is    Oatis 
A.   Smith.     He 
was    born    in 
Dadeville,  Ala- 
bama, and  later 
resided  in  Gor- 
don, Louisiana. 


ac- 


122     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

He  is  a  good  citizen,  and  was  a  splendid  soldier 
in  the  Civil  War.  He  is  witty,  always  sees  the  funny 
side  of  a  situation,  and  enjoys  a  practical  joke, 
whether  he  is  the  perpetrator  or  the  victim. 

Oat  once  went  into  the  country  to  make  some  col- 
lections, and  his  trip  led  him  into  a  region  with  which 
he  was  not  familiar.  There  had  been  a  great  rainfall 
the  night  before,  and  the  creeks  and  branches  were 
swollen  to  inundation.  He  came  to  a  wide  expanse 
of  water  running  across  the  road.  Not  knowing  how 
deep  it  might  be,  and  desiring  to  keep  his  shoes  and 
socks  dry,  he  alighted  and  pulled  them  off.  He  again 
mounted  his  horse,  rode  across  safely,  and  was  put- 
ting on  his  shoes  when  another  man  rode  up  and  in- 
quired, 

"How  is  it,  neighbor?" 

"Mighty  bad,"  said  Oat. 

"What  would  you  advise  me  to  do?"  asked  the 
stranger. 

"Do  just  what  I  did,"  said  Oat.  "Get  off  your 
horse,  pull  off  all  your  clothes,  shoes,  and  socks,  tie 
them  into  a  bundle  with  your  suspenders,  and  ride 
across,  holding  the  bundle  high  over  your  head." 

"Well,"  said  the  fellow,  "if  I  must  I  must,"  and  he 
at  once  dismounted  and  began  to  "  shuck  "  off  his 
clothes. 

In  the  meantime  Oat,  having  dressed,  mounted  his 


INTRODUCING  OAT  123 

horse  and  rode  away.  But  when  out  of  sight,  he  hid 
his  horse  in  the  bushes,  and  went  back  unseen  to 
watch  the  performance. 

The  stranger  followed  the  instructions  with  much 
regard  for  details.  He  mounted  his  horse,  grasping 
its  mane  firmly  with  one  hand,  holding  the  bundle 
aloft  with  the  other;  and  pressing  his  heels  to  the 
sides  of  the  steed,  he  ventured  into  the  "rolling  deep." 
But  imagine  his  joy  and  also  his  chagrin,  when  he 
discovered  that  the  place  had  a  hard,  firm,  sandy 
bottom,  and  the  water  was  not  more  than  ten  inches 
deep. 

Oat  is  now  old  in  years  but  still  young  in  buoyancy 
of  spirits.  That  his  love  of  jokes  has  not  waned  with 
the  lapse  of  time  is  shown  by  the  following  incident, 
which  occurred  quite  recently. 

In  the  vicinity  of  Gordon,  where  Oat  lives,  there 
are  a  number  of  men  and  boys  who  are  fond  of  hunt- 
ing. They  are  good  shots  and  pride  themselves  on 
their  good  marksmanship.  These  hunters  often  as- 
semble at  the  village  store,  especially  on  a  Saturday 
afternoon,  bringing  their  guns  and  ammunition.  Now 
Oat  secured  the  skin  of  a  squirrel,  and  had  it  nailed 
high  up  in  a  tall  tree  standing  near  the  store.  It 
was  placed  so  that  only  small  parts  of  the  back  and 
tail  could  be  seen  from  any  point  of  the  grounds. 

The  following  Saturday  the  hunters  turned  out  in 


124     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 


full  force.  An  ally 
of  Oat's  looking 
quietly  up  the  tall 
tree,  h  i  s  hands 
shading  his  eyes, 
said,  "Boys,  I  do 
believe  I  see  a 
squirrel  up  that 
tree." 

One  of  the  hunt- 
ers, scanning  the 
tree  closely,  said, 
"That  certainly  is 
a  squirrel." 

The  boys  sprang 
instantly  to  their 
feet  and  made  a 
rush  for  their  guns, 
each  anxious  t  o 
secure  the  prize, 
and  still  more  anx- 
ious to  display  his 
marksmanship. 
«*"""  One  shot  after 

another  rent  the  air,  and  bark,  twigs,  and  leaves  fell, 
but  no  squirrel.  Then  volley  after  volley  followed, 
filling  the  air  with  smoke  and  fragments  of  bark  and 


HOMER  COLLEGE  125 

twigs.  But  to  the  wonder  of  the  boys  the  squirrel 
was  as  immovable  as  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar. 

"Boys,"  said  one  of  the  number,  "that  is  the  gol- 
darn-dest  squirrel  I  ever  tackled." 

Much  powder  and  shot  were  wasted  before  it  was 
found  to  be  "one  of  Oat's  tricks." 

HOMER  COLLEGE 

Such  was  the  boom  in  educational  matters  that 
the  churches  came  to  think  that  North-Central 
Louisiana  needed  and  would  support  a  college.  So 
the  following  were  founded :  the  Minden  Female  Col- 
lege, by  the  Presbyterians;  the  Mount  Lebanon  Male 
College,  by  the  Baptists;  and  the  Homer  Male  Col- 
lege, by  the  Methodists.  These  colleges  had  not  as 
large  or  fine  buildings  as  many  of  our  present  high 
schools;  but  at  that  time  they  were  thought  to  be 
ample  and  grand.  Some  of  these  old  buildings  are 
still  standing,  and  though  out  of  style  and  repair, 
timeworn  and  weatherstained,  they  are  splendid 
monuments  to  the  high  ideals  of  the  men  who  founded 
them. 

Although  they  had  no  funds,  except  those  derived 
from  tuition  fees,  they  did  well  and  in  a  certain  sense 
were  great  schools.  In  the  male  colleges  there  was 
only  one  course  of  study,  and  that  was  made  up 


126     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

chiefly  of  Latin,  Greek,  and  Mathematics.  The 
teaching  of  these  subjects  does  not  require  the  costly 
equipments  (apparatus,  laboratory,  shops,  and  so 
forth)  that  are  needed  to  teach  the  many  practical 
courses  in  our  great  colleges  of  to-day.  This  explains 
why  they  could  be  great  schools  without  much 
means. 

In  those  days  people  sent  their  sons  to  college  to 
have  their  mental  and  moral  natures  trained,  dis- 
ciplined, and  refined,  with  little  thought  as  to  how 
this  culture  could  be  turned  to  useful  account,  except 
in  a  general  way.  It  was  thought  then  that  when  a 
boy's  mind  was  trained  to  think,  compare,  and  reason 
he  could  easily  learn  the  special  things  necessary  to 
a  lawyer,  doctor,  farmer,  or  any  profession  he  might 
choose  to  follow.  The  following  incident  will  illus- 
trate their  view  of  the  matter: 

In  a  certain  town  in  Louisiana  lived  an  eminent 
lawyer  who,  in  conversation  with  a  noted  educator, 
said,  "I  have  not  the  high  appreciation  of  Latin, 
Greek,  and  Mathematics  that  I  once  had;  I  studied 
these  things  at  the  University  of  Virginia,  but  I  have 
never  had  occasion  to  use  them  during  my  thirty 
years  of  experience  as  a  lawyer." 

Pointing  to  a  brick  wall  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street,  the  educator  replied,  "My  dear  sir,  you  know 
that  in  building  that  wall  they  used  scaffolding;  where 


HOMER  COLLEGE 


127 


is  that  scaffolding  now?  If  that  wall  could  speak,  how 
foolish  and  how  ungrateful  it  would  be  for  it  to  say, 
'I  have  no  use  for  scaf- 
folding; I  have  been  stand- 
ing here  thirty  years  and 
I  have  never  had  occasion 
to  use  it  during  that  long 
time.'" 

"A  great  man  once 
said,"  continued  the  edu- 
cator, "'if  I  should  forget 
every  fact  and  principle 
which  I  learned  while  at 
school  and  college  I  would 
not  be  a  very  poor  man, 
but  if  I  should  lose  the  mental  training  which  I  ac- 
quired by  the  mastery  of  those  facts  I  would  be 
poor  indeed."' 

Nick  entered  Homer  College  on  its  opening  day. 
His  mother  went  with  him,  and  in  presenting  him  to 
the  faculty  said,  "Put  him  where  you  think  he  be- 
longs; it  is  our  purpose  to  keep  him  here  until  he 
graduates."  Nick  had  been  well  prepared  for  college 
at  the  Forest  Grove  school.  He  stood  the  entrance 
examination  and  was  assigned  to  the  freshman  class. 

He  was  not  examined  in  English,  geography,  or 
history;  but  mostly  in  Latin,  arithmetic,  and  algebra. 


128     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

In  Latin  he  had  gone  through  the  grammar,  reader, 
Cicero,  Caesar,  and  the  ^Eneid  of  Virgil.  The  best  way 
to  learn  English  was  then  thought  to  be  through  and 
by  means  of  Latin;  hence  much  of  the  English  taught, 
especially  rhetoric  and  belles-lettres,  came  late  in  the 
course  of  study,  after  the  student  had  been  well 
grounded  in  Latin. 

There  were  no  written  tests  as  we  have  them  to- 
day. When  reciting,  the  class  was  seated  on  long 
benches  in  front  of  the  teacher,  and  the  students  were 
quizzed  or  sent  to  the  board  one  at  a  time,  and  were 
graded  according  to  their  answers.  Examinations 
were  public  and  conducted  in  the  same  way.  The 
great  assembly  room  of  the  college  was  often  full  of 
people  on  examination  day,  and  one  or  more  of  the 
visitors,  by  request  of  the  teacher,  sometimes  con- 
ducted the  examination. 

The  citizens  of  Homer  were  often  amused,  and 
probably  sometimes  annoyed,  by  the  pranks  of  the 
college  boys.  One  Sunday  morning  as  the  people 
were  quietly  passing  through  the  courthouse  square 
on  their  way  to  church,  some  strange  sights  came  into 
view.  It  looked  as  if  all  the  business  men  had  sud- 
denly changed  their  places  of  business.  A  doctor's 
signboard  was  on  a  merchant's  store,  a  saloon  sign 
was  on  the  post  office,  a  lawyer's  sign  on  a  stable,  the 
stable  sign  on  the  hotel,  and  so  on.  "That  is  the 


HOMER  COLLEGE  129 

work  of  those  mischievous  college  boys,"  said  one  of 
the  party;  and  everybody  smiled  or  laughed,  thus 
confirming  the  statement  of  Haislip:  "Man  is  the  only 
creature  that  laughs,  because  he  alone  sees  things  as 
they  are  and  as  they  should  be." 

At  one  time  Dan  Rice's  circus  was  coming  to  town, 
and  orders  were  issued  prohibiting  the  college  boys 
from  attending.  The  faculty  thought  it  hurtful  to 
good  morals  to  go  to  such  places.  Nevertheless  a 
large  number  of  the  students  went,  thinking  or  hop- 
ing that  it  might  not  become  known  to  the  college 
authorities.  But  the  president  was  alert;  he  learned 
of  the  violation,  and  suspended  the  participants, 
thirty-six  in  all,  for  a  period  of  two  weeks. 

This  outbreak,  like  many  another  prank  of  college 
life,  was  committed  in  mere  wantonness  of  unex- 
pended vitality.  Probably  it  would  not  have  hap- 
pened had  the  pent  up  buoyancy  of  youth  been  re- 
lieved by  some  active  duty  or  play.  Many  of  those 
boys  now  sleep  on  the  battlefields  of  the  Civil  War. 
Among  the  few  still  living  the  writer  recalls  Black,1 
John,2  and  Will,3  all  of  whom  have  attained  distinc- 
tion or  competency  in  their  several  lines  of  work.* 

Nick's  roommate,  Sam  Pursley,  always  took  a 
hand  in  any  mischief  that  was  going  on.  On  the 
night  of  the  circus  he  blacked  himself  with  burnt 

*  The  numbers  refer  to  the  appendix  in  which  the  real  names  are  given. 


130     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 


cork,  put  on  a  ragged  suit,  and  went  to  the  show. 
Feeling  that  no  one  would  see  through  his  disguise, 

he  mingled  freely 
with  all  classes,  and 
incited  much  amuse- 
ment and  laughter 
by  his  "negro  antics 
and  lingo."  Soon 
after  that,  Sam's 
father  moved  to 
Mississippi  (in  1860), 
and  the  only  time 
Nick  and  Sam  ever 
saw  each  other 
again  was  during  the 

last  year  of  the  Civil  War  (1865).  Then  they  met 
and  had  a  short  talk  on  the  road  near  Hamburg, 
South  Carolina,  Sam  being  in  the  cavalry  and  Nick 
in  the  infantry  of  the  Confederate  Army.  Such  are 
the  strange  coincidences  of  human  life. 

Nick  and  Hines  22  were  college  chums  and  in  the 
same  class.  Hines  was  brilliant  in  Latin  and  Greek, 
and  Nick  was  good  in  mathematics.  Hence  it  took 
the  two  together  to  make  one  first-class  student. 
Nick  was  a  hard  student  of  mathematics,  incited  and 
stimulated  by  a  love  rather  than  a  talent  for  the  sub- 
ject. So  he  came  to  be  dubbed  the  "college  mathe- 


HOMER  COLLEGE  131 

matician."  The  professor  of  mathematics  once  gave 
the  class  three  days  to  solve  a  certain  hard  problem 
(the  problem  of  "the  three  points"  in  trigonometry). 
He  asked  the  class  not  to  get  any  help  or  hints  from 
the  book  or  otherwise,  and  related  such  things  about 
its  use,  history,  and  so  forth,  as  to  cause  the  boys  to 
think  it  would  be  a  great  honor  to  the  whole  class  if 
any  one  of  them  shoftld  solve  it. 

All  eyes  and  hopes  now  turned  to  Nick,  and  to  en- 
courage him  to  do  his  best  the  boys  promised  him 
ever  so  many  presents  if  he  succeeded.  "Nick,"  said 
Hines,  "if  you  solve  that  problem  I'll  pay  for  your 
license  when  you  get  married."  Well,  to  make  a  long 
story  short,  Nick  solved  the  problem  and  received 
all  the  promised  presents.  Sixteen  years  after  that 
he  was  married,  and  Hines,  then  a  state  senator, 
made  good  his  promise  also. 

A  strong  feature  of  the  college  was  the  work  of  the 
two  literary  societies,  in  which  a  great  deal  of  interest 
was  taken  by  all  the  upper  classmen.  Indeed  these 
societies,  with  their  numerous,  intelligent,  and 
wealthy  members,  dominated  the  college  in  a  large 
measure.  Such  was  the  trend  of  the  times  that  the 
highest  goal  at  which  a  college  man  could  aim  was 
to  be  a  good  speaker  or  orator.  The  course  of  study 
not  only  helped  to  awaken  and  foster  this  ideal,  but 
it  also  trained  the  students  in  the  means  of  its  attain- 

STORIES  OP   DIXIE. — 9 


132     THE  STORY  OF  A  TYPICAL  SECTION 

nient.  Therefore  the  societies  prospered,  and  some 
of  the  members  became  good  speakers  in  after  life. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1861,  the  two  societies  met 
one  Friday  night  for  joint  debate.  Nick  and  Joe  4 
were  appointed  a  committee  to  select  the  question  to 
be  discussed.*  The  Civil  War  had  now  begun,  and 
there  was  great  excitement  about  it.  One  company, 
the  "Claiborne  Guards,"  had  gone  to  the  war,  and 
there  was  talk  of  others  going.  So  Nick  and  Joe 
agreed  on  this  question: 

"Resolved  that  the  upper-classmen  should  resign 
from  the  college  and  go  to  the  war." 

The  question  was  accepted  and  very  ably  debated 
on  both  sides.  The  affirmative  won,  and  this  served 
to  arouse  all  the  larger  boys  to  action  in  the  matter. 
There  was  little  sleeping  that  night,  but  much  earnest 
talking  and  planning.  The  next  morning  all  the 
larger  boys  resigned  from  the  college  and  went  to  their 
homes,  expecting  soon  to  go  to  the  war. 

*  Joe  and  Nick  were  classmates,  and  chums  both  at  college  and  in 
the  war.  In  the  bloody  onslaught  at  Franklin,  Tennessee,  Joe,  though 
severely  wounded,  could  not  be  persuaded  to  leave  the  field.  Nick,  per- 
ceiving his  suffering,  approached  him  and  said,  "Joe,  can  I  help  you  in 
any  way?" 

"No,  Nick,"  said  he,  " I  thank  you;  but  as  soon  as  you  can  I  wish  you 
would  look  after  Colonel  Nelson;  I  fear  he  is  mortally  wounded." 

Such  was  ever  his  helpful  and  self-sacrificing  disposition.  Many 
years  after  the  war  the  colonel  of  the  regiment  (the  lamented  T.  C. 
Standifer),  speaking  of  Joe  to  Nick  said,  "The  South  has  no  better 
citizen,  nor  had  she  a  braver  soldier." 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  STORY  OF  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 

THE  IRREPRESSIBLE  CONFLICT 

When  it  became  known  that  Mr.  Lincoln  had  been 
elected  president  of  the  United  States  (November, 
1860)  there  was  great  excitement  all  over  the  country. 
It  is  hard  for  one,  at  the  present  time,  to  realize  how 
widely  the  North  and  the  South  had  become  sepa- 
rated in  thought  and  feeling,  especially  with  regard 
to  certain  leading  questions  and  issues.  It  really 
seemed  that  an  "irrepressible  conflict"  had  arisen 
between  them.  So  the  Southern  states,  believing 
that  the  Union  had  become  hurtful  rather  than  help- 
ful to  their  peace  and  welfare,  resolved  to  withdraw 
from  it,  just  as  a  partner  would  leave  a  business  con- 
cern which  had  ceased  to  be  pleasant  and  profitable 
to  him.  They  seceded  from  the  Union  (annulled 
the  compact  which  bound  them  to  it),  formed  a 
government  of  their  own,  and  called  it  the  Confeder- 
ate States  of  America. 

Mr.  Lincoln  was  an  intense  unionist;  he  believed 
and  affirmed  that  the  breaking  up  of  the  Union 

133 


134  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 

would  be  the  greatest  evil  that  could  befall  all  the 
states.  So  he  determined  to  preserve  the  Union  at 
all  hazards,  and  to  this  end  sent  an  army  into  the 
South  to  quell  the  "rebellion." 

How  little  the  common  people  of  the  two  sections 
really  knew  of  one  another — their  thoughts,  habits, 
characters,  and  ideals!  This  came  from  their  living 
so  far  apart,  and  having  no  opportunity  or  means 
of  mutual  communication.  Their  knowledge  of  one 
another  was  based  on  hearsay,  and  this  was  dis- 
torted by  partisans  and  fanatics.  The  South  mis- 
judged and  undervalued  the  North  in  many  ways, 
and  evidently  Mr.  Lincoln  himself  had  a  poor  idea 
of  southern  conditions;  for,  to  subdue  the  South,  he 
called  out  75,000  troops  for  three  months,  whereas 
as  a  matter  of  fact  it  took  2,750,000  soldiers  four 
years  to  accomplish  it.  Had  the  common  people 
North  and  South  known  each  other  better — their 
patriotism,  devotion  to  the  Union,  and  ideals  of  right 
and  wrong — probably  their  differences  would  have 
been  healed  without  the  cost  of  so  much  blood  and 
treasure. 

NICK  GOES  TO  WAR 

It  was  on  a  superb  spring  morning  that  Nick,  with 
his  gun  and  dog,  was  strolling  through  the  dark 
green  woods  near  his  father's  country  home.  What 


NICK  GOES  TO  WAR  135 

lad  would  not  have  been  happy  under  the  same  con- 
ditions! For  him  there  had  just  been  substituted 
outdoor  freedom  for  indoor  restraints,  hunting  for 
studying,  the  songs  of  birds  and  the  murmur  of 
running  water  for  a  stillness  unrelieved  except  by 
the  rattle  of  chalk  or  the  clatter  of  slate  pencils. 
No  sound  or  sight  of  the  landscape  evaded  the  lad's 
quickened  and  responsive  senses.  A  buttercup 
quivered  and  bowed  under  the  flutter  and  weight 
of  a  bee  extracting  its  honey;  a  "news-carrier" 
(syrphus  fly),  just  arrived  from  fairyland,  poised 
in  mid  air  and  cheered  the  boy  with  its  fanciful 
message;  a  sapsucker  flopped  from  a  distant  tree 
to  one  nearby  and  ran  in  dismal  spirals  about  one 
of  its  big  branches.  All  nature  was  "laughing  in 
the  madness  of  joy";  never  seemed  the  sky  so  blue, 
the  foliage  so  green,  nor  the  odor  of  the  honeysuckle 
so  sweet. 

It  is  dreadful  how  quickly  a  delightful  situation 
may  be  changed.  Over  the  hills  came  the  long  swell- 
ing blasts  of  Uncle  Wash's  hunting  horn.  Nick 
knew  at  once  that  it  was  a  call  to  him  to  come  home. 
He  struck  a  bee  line  for  the  house,  feeling  that  it 
must  be  something  about  the  war,  for  people  now 
thought  and  talked  of  little  else.  At  the  front 
gate  he  met  his  cousin  Billie,5  who  lived  in  the  western 
part  of  the  parish.  He  was  also  a  lusty  lad,  a  little 


136 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 


older  than  Nick,  and  strong  enough  to  handle  a 
pike.  Turning  on  Nick  a  cheerful,  ruddy  face,  he 
said, 

"Nick,  we  are  making  up  a  company  to  go  to  the 
war,  and  I  came  all  the  way  over  here  to  get  you  to 
join  it.  It  is  nearly  made  up,  and  you  will  have  to 
apply  soon  to  get  your  name  on  the 
roll." 

Before  replying  Nick  glanced  at 
his  mother.     Though  her  lips  were 
smiling,  she  looked  at  him  out  of 
deep,  sad  eyes  with  no  glint  of 
mirth   in    them.     "My    son," 
said  she,  "you  have  my  con- 
sent to  go,  if  you  so  desire." 
There   was  a   look   of   anxiety 
in  her  clear  gray  eyes  as 
she  added,  "This  is  going 
to  be  a  more  serious  affair 
than  our  people  appear  to 
think;  but  go,  and  may  God 
be  with  you."    At  the 
time    Nick  scarcely 
heeded  the  expression, 
but  often  since  he  has 
wondered  if  it  was  one 
of  fear  or  a  vision. 


NICK  GOES  TO  WAR  137 

The  next  day  (Sunday)  Nick  saw  his  friend  Oat, 
and  told  him  of  his  purpose  to  go  with  Billie  to  the 
war.  "Nick,"  said 
Oat  in  his  usual  jest- 
ing tone  and  man- 
ner, "you  and  Bill 
will  need  a  guardian, 
if  not  a  nurse;  so  I 
reckon  I'd  better  go 
along  with  you." 
That  same  day,  late 
in  the  afternoon,  Oat 
and  Nick  started  on 
a  twenty -five -mile 
ride,  so  anxious  were  they  to  get  their  names  on 
the  roll.  Their  route  led  through  Homer. 

With  their  start  also  appeared  the  signs  of  an 
approaching  tempest.  Soon  lowering  clouds  began 
to  chase  one  another  as  if  mad.  The  darkness  of 
the  night  increased  as  the  heavens  became  more 
overcast.  After  a  while  the  fitful  flashes  of  lightning 
alone  revealed  the  surroundings  of  the  riders,  while 
loud  peals  of  thunder  shook  the  earth  and  reverber- 
ated over  their  heads.  Just  as  they  reached  the  col- 
lege large  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall.  They  stopped, 
hitched  their  mules,  and  with  their  saddles  and 
blankets  made  pallets  on  the  floor  of  the  college 


138  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 

hall.  Lying  on  these  rough  beds  and  lulled  by  the 
roar  of  wind  and  rain,  they  fell  asleep.  What  an 
experience — the  ride,  the  storm,  the  bed!  What  a 
fitting  introduction  to  the  career  of  the  Dixie  soldier! 
WTas  it  an  accident  or  a  harbinger?  God  only  knows. 

After  a  sound  two-hour  nap  they  mounted  their 
mules,  continued  their  journey,  and  had  the  joy 
and  honor  of  being  enrolled  as  members  of  the 
"Claiborne  Rangers,"  of  which  Thomas  M.  Scott 
was  captain. 

The  first  day  of  July,  1861,  was  fixed  as  the  time 
for  the  company  to  assemble  in  Homer  and  start 
to  the  war.  These  were  now  busy  and  exciting  times. 
Every  soldier  was  to  have  a  uniform — a  round- 
about coat  with  large  horn  buttons — and  all  the 
ladies  joined  in  to  help  make  them.  The  ladies  met 
in  groups  at  different  places  and  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  planning,  measuring,  sewing,  and  chattering. 
The  young  people  lived  in  a  fever  of  excitement. 
Uncle  Wash  made  Nick  a  great  bowie  knife  that  was 
nearly  a  foot  long.  On  the  night  before  the  day  of 
departure,  Nick  was  so  wrought  up  in  mind  that  he 
could  scarcely  go  to  sleep.  He  rose  early  the  next 
morning,  put  on  his  uniform  and  also  his  belt,  to 
which  was  attached  a  scabbard  carrying  his  big 
knife.  "Ah,"  thought  he,  "Mr.  Yank  had  better 
keep  out  of  my  way."  His  little  sister  dashed  into 


NICK  GOES  TO  WAR 


139 


her  mother's  room  and  exclaimed,   "Mama,   Nick 
looks   like   the  picture   of  Jack   the  Giant   Killer." 

Homer  was  full  of 
people  on  the  first  of 
July.  They  had 
come  in  wagons,  in 
buggies,  and  on 
horseback  from  all 
parts  of  the  parish. 
Mothers  were  there 
to  kiss  their  sons 
good-by,  and  pretty 
girls  were  there  to 
bid  their  sweethearts 
farewell.  Drums  were  beating,  bands  playing,  and 
flags  waving.  The  boys  looked  fine  and  grand  in 
their  new  uniforms,  though  scarcely  any  two  of  the 
suits  were  exactly  alike.  With  their  pistols  and 
bowie  knives  they  had  quite  a  warlike  air,  and  a  few 
must  bluster  some  to  show  their  manhood.  "Good 
morning,  Henry,"  said  Miss  Mary  to  a  friend;  "you 
are  just  splendid  as  a  soldier;"  and  Henry  would 
clear  his  throat  and  square  his  shoulders  as  a  real 
soldier  does  when  commended  for  valor. 

With  a  few  exceptions  all  felt  and  acted  as  if 
they  were  going  to  a  picnic.  It  was  commonly  be- 
lieved that  the  war  would  not  last  long.  This  belief 


140  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 

was  simply  a  part  of  the  natural  optimism  of  the 
people.  Nick  almost  prayed  that  the  war  would 
not  close  before  he  got  into  one  battle;  but  after  he 
got  into  one  he  then  prayed  that  it  would  close  be- 
fore he  got  into  another. 

It  was  sixty  miles  to  the  nearest  railroad.  This 
distance  was  to  be  traveled  by  the  Claiborne  Rangers 
in  wagons  or  on  foot.  They  knew  nothing  of  drilling; 
this  was  the  first  time  many  of  them  had  ever  seen 
one  another.  But  few  had  even  heard  of  "fall  in." 
So  there  was  no  attempt  to  form  or  march  them  in 
military  order.  When  they  started  every  fellow 
went  as  he  pleased. 

When  the  order  was  given  to  march  there  was 
much  cheering  and  shaking  of  hands,  and  good 
wishes  were  showered  upon  the  departing  soldiers. 
Oat  said  it  was  really  a  relief  when  they  had  gone  so 
far  that  friends  and  relatives  could  no  longer  say 
to  them  "good-by"  and  "God  bless  you."  The  poor 
fellows  did  not  dream  that  many  a  long  day  was 
to  pass  before  they  again  saw  faces  so  beaming  with 
looks  of  love  and  good  will.  With  Aunt  Martha's 
last  embrace  of  Nick  there  came  a  far-away,  dreamy 
look  into  her  eyes.  She  was  staring  at  him,  but  he 
felt  himself  almost  outside  the  range  of  her  vision. 
Nick  never  forgot  that  look,  piercing  as  it  were  the 
realms  of  the  future,  and  in  after  years  wondered 


NICK  GOES  TO  WAR  141 

if  she  then  had  a  premonition  of  her  own  passing 
away  before  his  return  from  the  war.  While  her 
beautiful  eyes  bespoke  fear,  anxiety,  and  sorrow, 
there  was  no  dimming  of  the  indomitable  light  that 
lived  in  their  clear  depths. 

There  were  enough  wagons  and  hacks  to  haul 
the  entire  party,  their  baskets  of  food,  and  their 
luggage.  Some  of  the  men  rode  and  others  walked, 
and  when  tired  of  the  one  they  did  the  other.  All 
along  the  road,  people  cheered  them  with  their  smiles, 
kind  words,  and  good  wishes,  the  men  waving  their 
hats  and  the  women  their  handkerchiefs. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  they  reached  the  Gee  Place, 
and  there  they  pitched  camp  for  the  night.  Most  of 
the  men  had  been  on  camp  hunts  and  camp  fishings, 
and  were  more  or  less  familiar  with  camp  life.  They 
knew  what  to  do  and  how  to  do  it  to  make  themselves 
quite  comfortable.  There  was  a  great  stir  and  bustle 
in  feeding  and  watering  the  stock,  preparing  and 
eating  supper,  and  making  pallets  of  blankets  and 
comforts.  After  that  the  men  became  more  quiet; 
they  sat  in  groups  on  logs  or  pallets  and  told  stories, 
cracked  jokes,  and  sang  familiar  songs.  As  the  night 
wore  away  they  went  by  ones  or  twos  "to  bed," 
until  none  were  left.  On  their  rude  couches  they 
slept  as  soundly  and  as  sweetly  as  if  they  had  been 
in  their  soft  beds  at  home.  While  they  slumbered, 


142  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 

the  stars  shone  brightly  in  the  skies  as  if  keeping 
watch  over  them,  and  the  stillness  of  the  night  was 
broken  only  by  the  whippoorwill  as  in  the  deep 
shadows  of  the  forest,  it  poured  forth  its  plaintive 
call,  "chuck,  will-widow." 

The  men  rose  early  the  next  morning,  fed  the 
stock,  prepared  and  ate  breakfast,  and  continued 
the  march.  The  scenes  and  events  along  the  road 
did  not  differ  much  from  those  of  the  day  before. 
One  mile  west  of  Vienna  they  passed  the  old  Wafer 
Place,  the  home  of  Nick's  maternal  great-grand- 
father. The  second  night  they  camped  at  the  "Gum 
Spring,"  and  the  third  night,  in  the  courthouse 
yard  of  the  beautiful  city  of  Monroe. 

A  new  railroad  ran  from  Monroe  to  Vicksburg, 
and  this  was  the  first  one  many  of  the  Rangers  had 
ever  seen.  Some  platform  cars  were  provided  with 
seats  made  of  rough  planks,  and  on  these  the  soldiers 
were  transported  from  Monroe  to  Vicksburg.  The 
terminal  of  the  road  at  that  time  was  DeSoto,  a  small 
village  just  across  the  river  from  Vicksburg.  It 
has  long  since  been  destroyed  by  the  changes  in  the 
channel  of  the  great  river.  From  DeSoto  they  were 
ferried  across  the  river  to  Vicksburg.  Here  they 
stopped  a  few  hours,  during  which  time  Nick  went 
to  an  art  gallery  and  had  his  "ambrotype"  taken,  a 
copy  of  which  faces  page  18. 


CAMP  MOORE  143 

From  Vicksburg  the  company  went  by  rail  to 
Jackson,  Mississippi,  and  thence  journeyed  to  Camp 
Moore,  Louisiana. 

CAMP  MOORE 

In  the  piny  woods  of  Tangipahoa  Parish  there  is  a 
certain  old  field  neglected  and  overgrown  with  pine 
bushes.  Thousands  have  seen  it  from  the  passing 
trains  of  the  Illinois  Central  without  suspecting  that 
it  was  the  site  of  a  great  military  encampment  in  the 
stormy  days  of  '61.  Here  Camp  Moore,  named  after 
the  governor  of  Louisiana,  was  located.  Hardly  could 
a  more  appropriate  place  for  the  purpose  have  been 
found — seventy-five  miles  from  New  Orleans,  suffi- 
ciently rolling  for  easy  drainage,  and  level  enough 
for  military  evolutions.  Situated  as  it  was  in  the 
ozone  belt,  the  air  was  pure  and  sweet,  and  redolent 
with  the  odor  of  fresh  pine  straw.  On  one  side  was 
Beaver  Creek  and  on  the  other  the  Tangipahoa 
River,  both  running  streams  of  clear  sparkling  water. 

Here  the  sons  of  Louisiana  went  to  enlist  in  the 
army  and  to  be  trained  in  the  duties  of  soldiers. 
When  the  war  began  these  sons  knew  nothing  of 
drilling,  guard  mounting,  and  many  other  duties 
which  alone  make  men  efficient  in  the  camp  and  on 
the  march  and  the  battle  field.  Camp  Moore  was 


144 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 


established  by  the  state  to  provide  this  instruction. 
In  a  word,    it  was  a  real  military  school  in  which 

men  were  trained  for 
war  and  formed  into 
battalions  and  regi- 
ments. In  this  school 
they  were  kept  usu- 
ally six  or  eight  weeks 
and  then  forwarded  to 
the  "front,"  where 
the  fighting  was  to  be 
done. 

As  green  and  awkward  as  the  Claiborne  boys  were 
with  respect  to  drilling,  there  were  three  things  in 
military  life  they  could  do  as  well  as  the  drill  master: 
shoot  quick  and  straight,  put  up  tents,  and  march  in 
"route-step"  (go  as  you  please).  They  marched  in 
this  go-as-you-please  style  from  the  depot  to  the 
camp, — a  large  drill-ground  in  front  of  "a  little  city  of 
white  tents."  The  grounds  were  as  smooth  as  a  floor 
and  as  clean  as  a  newly  swept  yard,  and  the  white 
tents  were  arranged  in  straight  parallel  rows.  Every- 
thing seemed  to  have  been  designed  and  finished  with 
a  single  eye  to  order  and  cleanliness.  Here  and 
there  on  the  campus  were  squads  of  soldiers,  each 
being  drilled  by  an  officer  who  was  as  straight  as  an 
Indian  and  as  "  bossy  as  a  new  overseer."  "  Shoulder 


CAMP  MOORE  145 

arms!"  "Forward,  guide  right,  march!"  "Com- 
pany, left  half  wheel,  march!"  The  welkin  rang 
with  these  and  other  commands,  each  having  some- 
thing of  the  clear  crack  of  a  rifle. 

When  the  Rangers  received  their  tents  they  at 
once  put  them  up  in  two  rows,  facing  one  another, 
and  Captain  Scott  said,  "They  look  as  .well  as  any 
on  the  grounds."  The  next  day  officers  were  elected, 
and  the  company  mustered  into  service  for  one  year. 
Then  they  drew  guns — all  kinds,  scarcely  any  dozen 
of  them  being  of  the  same  pattern.  Thus  equipped, 
they  entered  upon  all  the  duties  of  soldiers;  namely, 
drilling,  guard  mounting  every  morning,  dress  parade 
every  afternoon,  policing,  inspections,  cleaning  quar- 
ters, washing  clothes,  drawing  rations,  cooking  and 
eating  the  frugal  meals. 

When  a  regiment  was  formed  and  sent  to  the 
"front"  its  place  was  soon  filled  by  new  companies 
coming  in  from  all  parts  of  the  state.  A  few  of  these 
were  Irish,  more  French,  and  still  more  English. 
Ten  of  the  English  companies  from  North-Central 
Louisiana,  including  the  Claiborne  Rangers,  were 
formed  into  a  regiment,  known  as  the  12th  Regi- 
ment, Louisiana  Infantry.  Of  this  regiment  Captain 
Scott,  of  the  Rangers,  was  elected  Colonel. 

The  12th  was  formed  of  a  thousand  young  men — 
stalwart,  muscular,  dauntless  hobbledehoys.  They 


146  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 

were  the  sons  of  lawyers,  doctors,  business  men,  and 
farmers,  and  having  been  reared  largely  in  Christian 
homes  they  had  that  pride  and  morale  which  make 
men  towers  of  strength  in  peace  and  in  war.  Of 
course  their  military  potency  could  not  be  estimated 
before  training  and  trial,  but  there  was  the  assurance 
in  advance  that  "blood  will  tell";  for  there  flowed  in 
their  veins  the  blood  of  the  heroes  of  Hastings  and 
Marston  Moor,  Valley  Forge  and  Yorktown,  Horse 
Shoe  Bend  and  New  Orleans,  Buena  Vista  and 
Chapultepec. 

It  was  a  short  walk  from  camp  to  the  Tangipahoa 
River,  and  early  in  the  morning  and  late  in  the  after- 
noon the  soldiers  were  permitted  to  go  there  to  bathe 
and  swim.  This  was  much  enjoyed  by  all,  and  every 
day  the  river  was  lined  with  the  jolly  and  noisy  swim- 
mers. Indeed,  throughout  the  war,  the  range  of 
their  pleasures  being  so  narrow,  the  men  went  in  the 
creeks,  mill  ponds,  and  rivers  whenever  they  had  a 
chance,  even  in  pretty  cold  weather,  that  being  about 
their  only  pastime.  They  often  took  their  soiled 
clothes,  washed  them,  and  spread  them  on  the  bushes 
to  dry,  while  they  bathed  and  played  in  the  water. 

It  was  at  Camp  Moore  that  Nick  learned  to  swim. 
That  was  queer,  for,  as  a  rule,  Louisiana  boys  take 
to  water  almost  as  soon  as  they  can  walk.  But  after 
that,  Nick  made  up  for  lost  time  by  swimming  in,  if 


CAMP  MOORE 


147 


not  across,  nearly  every  stream  between  that  place 
and  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 

When  the  men  neglected  duty  or  violated  the  rules 
they  were  punished  in  severe  and  singular  ways.  A 
soldier  once  stole  something,  and  was  punished  for  it 
by  having  to  wear  a  board  fastened  to  his  back  on 
which  was  printed  ROGUE.  Often  a  culprit  was 
punished  by  having  to  wear  a  barrel,  or  being  tied 
up  by  the  thumbs,  or  put  in  stocks  or  a 
pillory. 

As  a  rule,  it  was  only  the  rowdies  who 
had  to  be  treated  in  this  way.  The  men 
generally  did  their  duties  cheerfully  and 
faithfully.  As  the  war  progressed  the 
roughs,  rowdies,  and  bullies  gradually 
"played  out."  It  is  men  of  moral  courage 
that  make  dependable  and  enduring  sol- 
diers. Hence  punishments  became 
fewer  as  the  war  went  on. 

There  was  an  Irishman  in  the  llth 
regiment    named    Kelly,    who    was 


STOBIES  OF   DIXIE. — 10 


148  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 

punished  for  drunkenness  by  being  put  under  guard 
with  a  chain  and  ball  attached  to  his  ankle.  Kelly 
had  been  a  steamboat  roustabout,  and  was  a  giant 
in  size  and  strength.  Nick  happened  to  be  on 
guard  that  day  and  had  to  guard  Kelly.  Now 
the  big  Irishman,  moved  by  a  spirit  of  humor  or 
desperation,  seemed  to  be  watching  for  a  chance  to 
spring  on  Nick  and  beat  the  life  out  of  him.  So  every 
time  he  moved  down  would  come  Nick's  gun.  It 
was  loaded  with  an  ounce  ball  and  Kelly  knew  it. 
When  the  corporal  of  the  guard  came,  Kelly  said  to 
him  in  a  whisper:  "Would  ye  be  after  putting  a  man 
in  the  place  of  that  spalpeen  of  a  lad?  The  little  cuss 
has  got  so  he  won't  let  me  turn  over." 

Nick  was  as  glad  to  go  as  Kelly  was  to  have  him  go. 

Exposure  and  other  causes  produced  much  sickness 
among  the  troops.  At  the  beginning  of  the  war  each 
camp  was  supplied  with  a  hospital  in  which  the  sick 
were  cared  for.  In  it  were  clean  beds,  medicines,  and 
nurses,  and  many  ladies  came  with  flowers  and  deli- 
cacies for  the  patients.  But  year  by  year,  as  the  war 
went  on,  camp  hospitals  became  poorer  and  the 
medicines  scarcer,  until  they  really  disappeared  al- 
together. At  first  the  chief  kind  of  sickness  was 
measles,  which  is  usually  a  harmless  disease,  but  a 
very  fatal  one  when  the  subject  is  exposed.  More 
men  died  of  it  during  the  war  than  of  all  other  dis- 


149 


eases  together.    It  caused  the  death  of  more  than  a 
dozen  of  the  Claiborne  Rangers  at  Camp  Moore. 

Many  of  the  bodies  of 
deceased  soldiers  were 
taken  to  their  homes  for 
burial,  and  the  rest  were 
interred  on  a  mound  in 
the  woods  nearby.  The 
latter  were  buried  with 
military  honors;  that  is, 
the  remains  were  es- 
corted to  the  graveyard 
by  a  squad  of  soldiers, 
and  when  the  body  was 
put  in  the  ground  the 
squad  fired  three  rounds 
of  blank  cartridges  over 
the  grave.  It  was  a 
very  sad  and  impressive 
service. 

The  site  of  Camp 
Moore  is  now  an  old  and 
deserted  field.  All  signs 
of  the  camp  are  gone. 
There  is  nothing  left  to 
remind  one  of  the  stirring  scenes  of  '61.  Instead  of 
the  merry  laugh  and  heavy  tramp  of  soldiers,  one 


150          THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  WAR 

now  hears  the  "mournful  song"  of  the  pine  straw 
as  it  is  swept  by  the  passing  breeze. 

Many  years  after  the  war  the  Daughters  of  the 
Confederacy  induced  the  legislature  to  appropriate 
enough  money  to  buy  the  old  graveyard,  clean  it  off, 
build  a  strong  iron  fence  around  it,  and  erect  a  monu- 
ment in  memory  of  the  men,  living  and  dead,  who 
served  there.  When  the  monument  was  unveiled 
(1907)  Nick,  then  a  professor  in  the  state  university, 
made  the  dedication  speech. 

Two  large  beech  trees  were  left  standing  in  the  in- 
closure  on  account  of  the  many  names  of  the  soldiers 
cut  into  their  bark.  Among  these  old  carvings  Nick's 
attention  was  called  to  his  own  initials,  "  J.  W.  N.," 
which  were  probably  cut  by  him  just  forty-six  years 
before. 

In  the  latter  part  of  August  the  12th  was  ordered 
to  "the  front."  With  what  a  thrill  of  excitement  was 
the  order  received  by  the  men !  At  last  their  hopes  of 
getting  into  a  battle  were  to  be  realized!  Up  to  this 
time  they  had  had  no  news  to  write  home  except 
the  details  of  camp  life.  Now  they  were  to  go  far 
away  into  Kentucky,  where  the  storm  of  war  would 
soon  be  raging. 

There  was  a  great  hurry  and  bustle  in  preparing  to 
move — taking  down  tents,  packing  luggage,  and 
cooking  three  days'  rations.  When  they  boarded 


CAMP  MOORE  151 

the  train  each  man  carried  a  knapsack,  a  haversack, 
a  canteen,  two  blankets,  and  a  gun  and  cartridge 
box.  It  was  a  long  freight  train  that  was  to  carry 
them,  and  some  took  passage  in  and  some  on  top  of 
the  box  cars.  When  it  "pulled  out"  a  long  and  loud 
hurrah  was  shouted  by  a  thousand  jolly  fellows. 
Poor  boys !  They  little  dreamed  of  the  hardships  and 
privations  in  store  for  them. 

NOTE.  It  is  not  the  intention  of  this  book  to  give  any  ac- 
count of  the  battles  and  conflicts  of  the  War  between  the  States. 
As  to  how  the  Dixie  boys  acquitted  themselves  as  soldiers  is 
briefly  told  in  the  following  tribute  to  them  by  General  Early: 

"I  believe  the  world  has  never  produced  a  body  of  men  su- 
perior, in  courage,  patriotism,  and  endurance,  to  the  private 
soldiers  of  the  Confederate  armies.  I  have  repeatedly  seen  those 
soldiers  submit  with  cheerfulness  to  privations  and  hardships 
which  would  appear  to  be  almost  incredible;  and  the  wild  cheers 
of  these  brave  men  when  their  lines  sent  back  the  opposing  host 
of  Federal  troops,  staggering,  reeling,  and  flying,  have  often 
thrilled  every  fibre  in  my  heart.  I  have  seen,  with  my  own 
eyes,  ragged,  barefooted,  and  hungry  Confederate  soldiers 
perform  deeds,  which,  if  performed  in  days  of  yore,  by  mailed 
warriors  in  glittering  armor,  would  have  inspired  the  harp  of 
the  minstrel  and  the  pen  of  the  poet." 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

MINOR  INCIDENTS 

Many  things  occur  in  wars  of  which  history  makes 
no  mention.  As  a  rule,  it  tells  of  the  greater  and  not 
of  the  smaller  events.  Yet  the  latter  are  the  happen- 
ings that  young  people  like  most  to  hear  about. 
Stories  of  little  incidents  of  the  camp,  the  march,  and 
the  battle  not  only  make  pleasant  reading,  but  give 
one  a  good  idea  of  the  temper  of  the  soldiers  and  the 
kind  of  men  they  were. 

The  idea  of  war  which  one  gets  from  history  is  that 
it  is  a  series  of  severe  ills  and  toils.  This  is  true,  and 
probably  no  soldiers  ever  realized  it  more  keenly  than 
the  Confederates  during  the  War  between  the  States. 
Yet  old  soldiers  say  they  had  as  many  hearty  laughs 
during  that  war  as  they  ever  had  in  any  other  four 
years  of  their  lives.  So  war  must  have  something 
of  an  amusing  as  well  as  a  serious  side.  Fortunate  is 
the  soldier  who  has  the  "saving  grace  of  humor" 
through  and  by  which  this  funny  side  is  discernible. 

Few  armies  have  had  a  greater  number  of  wits 

152 


MINOR  INCIDENTS  153 

than  the  Confederate.  However  tired,  hungry,  and 
thirsty  the  men  might  be,  however  long  the  march,  or 
hard  the  battle,  or  gloomy  the  outlook,  some  one 
would  see  the  "funny  side"  of  it,  and  so  express  it 
as  to  put  the  others  to  smiling  if  not  laughing.  No 
doubt  this  reviving  and  stimulating  of  the  spirits  and 
morale  of  the  men  went  far  to  supply  the  want  of  food 
and  medicine.  Indeed,  it  is  believed  that  this  merri- 
ment had  much  to  do  in  making  the  Dixie  boys  the 
splendid  soldiers  they  were — enabling  them  to  pro- 
long the  struggle  against  such  great  odds  and  with 
such  scanty  means. 

A  regiment  was  once  passing  through  a  small  vil- 
lage. The  men  had  been  marching  and  fighting, 
more  or  less,  for  several  days.  They  were  not  only 
tired,  thirsty,  and  hungry,  but  their  backs  were  chafed 
by  the  straps  which  supported  their  cartridge  boxes, 
canteens,  and  haversacks.  It  was  a  hot  summer  day, 
and  the  only  noise  that  broke  the  silence  in  ranks  was 
the  heavy  grinding  of  the  men's  feet  as  they  pulled 
their  way  through  the  deep  dry  sand.  As  they  passed 
near  a  church  where  a  negro  was  tolling  the  bell  one 
of  the  men,  in  a  husky  voice,  inquired, 

"Hello,  boy;  what  are  you  ringing  that  bell  for?" 

"Somebody  dead,"  said  the  negro. 

"Well,"  said  the  soldier,  "strike  her  a  few  licks  for 
me,  for  I'm  nearly  dead." 


154 


STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


Weary  and  worn,  with  the  prospect  of  a  fight  just 
ahead  of  them,  some  Confederate  soldiers  were  pass- 
ing a  cotton  factory  in  North  Carolina.    One  of  the 
men,  glancing  at  the  lofty  stack  chimney,  exclaimed, 
"I  wonder  how  they  ever  built  that  tall  chimney?" 
"I  can  tell  you,"  replied  Jim  10;  "they  first  built 
the  hole  in  it,  and  then  built  the  chimney  around  the 
hole." 

After  a  hard  day's  march  a  regiment  pitched  camp 

near  a  small  village.    Soon 
a   negro   boy   entered   the 
camp  with  a  note  from  the 
young  ladies  of  the  village 
inviting  "the  young  men  of 
the  regiment"  to  a  dance 
that  evening.    The 
boys   at  once   got 


MINOR  INCIDENTS  155 

busy,  washing  off  their  old  shoes,  patching  and 
brushing  their  coats  and  trousers,  and  pulling  the 
tangles  out  of  their  hair  with  currycombs. 

On  going  into  the  dance  hall  the  boys  found  the 
girls  assembled  at  one  end  of  the  room,  and  they  soon 
gathered  at  the  other  end.  And  there  they  were  with 
no  one  to  introduce  them. 

At  last  one  of  the  fellows  walked  up  to  a  pretty 
girl  and,  with  a  smile  in  his  eyes,  very  gallantly 
asked,  "Miss,  may  I  have  the  first  dance  with 
you?" 

Very  gracefully  she  said,  "Why,  I  don't  know 
you." 

"Well,"  said  he,  "you  don't  take  any  more  chances 
than  I  do." 

General  Richard  Taylor  entered  the  Confederate 
Army  as  colonel  of  a  regiment  made  up  almost  en- 
tirely of  French  boys  from  South  Louisiana.  Upon 
reaching  Richmond  he  wTas  ordered  to  report  to  Gen- 
eral Stonewall  Jackson.  Taylor  found  the  redoubt- 
able Stonewall  sitting  on  a  fence  and  sucking  a  lemon. 
The  regiment  halted,  stacked  arms,  and  disbanded. 
Then  the  band  struck  up  a  lively  tune,  and  the  gay 
Creoles,  although  having  just  finished  a  long  and 
hard  march,  paired  off  and  began  a  jolly  dance. 

"Very  gay  men  for  serious  work,"  said  Stonewall 
to  Taylor. 


156 


STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


"I  hope  they  will  be  none  the  less  good  soldiers 
on  account  of  their  gayety,"  said  the  colonel. 

General  Jackson 
shook  his  head  as  if 
he  thought,  "I 
don't  see  how  that 
can  be." 

Whereupon  Col- 
onel Taylor  is  re- 
ported to  have  said, 
"General  Jackson, 
French  soldiers,  just 
such  as  these,  have 
whipped  the  men  and  kissed  the  women  all  over  the 
world." 

One  dark  night  Ben  6  stumbled  up  to  a  dim  firelight 
around  which  a  number  of  soldiers  were  standing, 
sitting,  or  lying.  The  darkness  was  intense,  it  being 
both  a  cloudy  and  a  moonless  night. 

"Boys,"  said  Ben,  "I  met  the  blackest  negro  awhile 
ago  I  ever  saw." 

"Bah,  Ben,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  men;  "how  could 
you  see  a  negro  or  anything  else  in  such  pitch- 
darkness  as  this?" 

"I  saw  him,"  said  Ben,  "by  the  very  absence  of  his 
color;  he  was  so  black  he  looked  like  a  hole  in  the 
darkness." 


A  FISH  STORY  157 

A  FISH  STORY 

When  one  begins  to  tell  a  fish  story  the  listener  is 
apt  to  think,  "Whatever  you  say  will  sound  like  a 
lie;  so  it  doesn't  really  matter."  In  the  present  in- 
stance the  facts  are  at  least  less  exaggerated  than  in 
the  old  story  where  "they  bit  so  fast  one  had  to  stand 
behind  a  tree  to  bait  his  hook." 

On  May  15,  1863,  the  12th  was  camped  on  the 
Big  Black  River  just  above  the  point  where  it  is 
crossed  by  the  railroad  running  from  Vicksburg 
through  Jackson,  Mississippi.  The  immense  army 
under  Gen.  Grant,  having  effected  a  landing  at 
Grand  Gulf,  and  forced  its  way  through  the  interior 
to  Jackson,  was  now  faced  toward  the  west,  and 
slowly  investing  the  Confederate  forces  under  Gen. 
Pemberton.  A  great  battle  was  drawing  near  in 
which  the  Dixie  Army  would  either  have  to  cut  its 
way  through  the  much  larger  army  of  Gen.  Grant  or 
be  driven  back  into  the  intrenchments  of  Vicksburg. 

At  this  critical  moment  an  event  occurred  which 
shows  how  little  the  Dixie  boys  were  disposed  to 
brood  over  coming  troubles  and  impending  disasters. 
About  a  mile  from  the  camp  of  the  12th  were  a 
number  of  lagoons,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  15th 
it  became  known  that  these  abounded  in  fish,  large 
and  small.  How  this  discovery  was  made  by  the 


158 


STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


men  is  not  known.  It  is  wonderful  what  news- 
gatherers  they  were,  especially  in  reference  to  "grub." 
Soon  the  way  to  the  lagoons  was  crowded  with  the 
would-be  fishermen.  Never  had  they  gone  to  a  picnic 
with  more  exhilarating  zest,  nor  did  they  ever  charge 
the  "Yankees"  with  grimmer  deter- 
mination. 

The  lakelets  were  found  to  be  about 
fifty  feet  wide  and  three  feet  deep.    The 
question  at  once  arose  as  to  how  the 
fish  might  be  caught.    The  boys  had  no 
fishing  tackle — lines,   hooks,   seines,   or 
gigs.     But  here,  as  in  many  other  cases, 
necessity  was  the  mother  of  invention. 
Some  one  suggested  how  "seines"  might 
be  made  of  vines;  viz.,  get  a  long  vine 
and    wrap    it    with    other    vines,    thus 
forming  a  roll  some  fifty  feet  long,  three 
feet  thick  in  the  middle,  and  tapering 
to  points    at    the  ends. 
There    were    plenty    of 
vines     in    the    swamp, 
plenty  of  men  to  do  the 
work,  and   the  only 
necessary  tools  were 
pocket  knives.    Soon 
*•-   the  woods  were  alive 


A  FISH  STORY  159 

with  the  hum  of  industry  and  a  new  manufactory  in 
process  of  operation. 

The  moment  a  seine  was  finished  it  was  seized  by 
a  score  of  lusty  fellows,  who,  stripped  of  their  clothes, 
dragged  it  into  the  lagoon,  and  pushed  or  pulled  it 
across,  from  side  to  side,  just  as  an  ordinary  seine 
would  have  been  used.  With  the  seine  pressed  hard 
against  the  bottom  of  the  lakelet,  the  openings  be- 
tween the  vines  being  too  small  to  allow  the  passage 
of  large  fish  through  them,  there  were  landed  at  each 
haul  a  number  of  buffalo  and  catfish,  and  along  with 
these  were  often  one  or  more  turtles  and  moccasins. 
The  boys  entered  into  the  sport  with  the  zest  of 
picnickers.  They  continued  to  seine  "hole"  after 
"hole,"  as  long  as  there  was  a  prospect  for  more  fish 
and  more  fun. 

At  last  they  started  to  camp,  carrying  many  buf- 
falo fish  weighing  from  one  to  three  pounds.  So 
covered  were  they  with  black  sticky  mud  that  the 
identity  of  each  and  all  was  destroyed  except  for  his 
form  and  voice.  Before  reaching  camps  they  went 
to  the  river  to  wash  themselves  and  the  fish.  Scarcely 
had  they  done  this  "  next-to-Godly "  act  when  the 
"long  roll"  called  them  to  "fall  in."  The  regiment 
was  soon  on  the  march,  many  of  the  men  having  one 
or  more  buffaloes  dangling  from  their  haversacks. 

It  was  a  hot  day,  and  the  fish  became  "heavier  and 


160         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

heavier";  so,  one  by  one,  they  were  dropped  by  the 
roadside,  until  the  entire  catch  was  strewn  along  the 
road  for  a  distance  of  probably  ten  miles.  That 
night,  after  a  long  and  hard  march,  the  regiment 
"slept  on  arms"  in  a  cornfield.  The  next  day, 
May  16,  the  battle  of  Baker's  Creek,  or  Champion 
Hill,  was  fought,  into  which  the  fishermen  entered  as 
actively,  though  not  as  pleasantly,  as  in  the  fishing 
frolic  of  the  day  before.  At  the  first  roll  call  after 
the  battle  there  were  many  vacant  places  in  the 
ranks — some  of  the  fishermen  too  had  fallen.  Brave,' 
noble  boys!  May  your  ashes  rest  in  peace,  is  the 
prayer  of  one  of  the  few  surviving  seiners. 

A  CONFEDERATE  SCOUT 

Of  the  boys  who  attended  the  old  Forest  Grove 
school,  already  described,  none  could  run  faster  and 
longer  or  jump  further  and  higher  than  Wafe.7  He 
was  not  much  of  a  bookworm,  but  in  athletics, 
hilarity,  and  mischief  he  led  the  school — always 
played  deer  in  the  "game  of  deer,"  and  always  knew 
every  boy's  speech  except  his  own.  Good-natured, 
generous,  and  courageous,  yet  he  was  a  genius  in  de- 
vising mischief  and  getting  other  boys  into  awkward, 
embarrassing,  and  scary  situations.  It  is  queer  how 
he  maintained  his  popularity  with  all  classes — was 
liked  even  by  the  victims  of  his  roughest  jokes.  As  a 


A  CONFEDERATE  SCOUT 


161 


rider  and  shot  a  Texas  Ranger  was  not  more  daring 
or  skillful. 

Wafe  was  the  brother  of  Syranus,  of  whom  a  story 
is  told  later  on,  and  he 
(Wafe)  is  the  father 
of  Chappell,  a  re- 
cent graduate  of  Tu- 
lane  University,  who 
was  widely  known  in 
college  circles  as  one 
of  the  greatest  all- 
round  athletes  the 
South  has  produced. 
How  queerly  heredity 
works!  In  many  particulars  the  brothers  were  as 
dissimilar  as  the  father  and  son  are  alike. 

When  the  war  broke  out  Wafe  enlisted  and  served 
in  the  cavalry.  Upon  the  fall  of  Vicksburg  General 
Johnston,  commanding  the  Confederate  forces,  fell 
back  to  Jackson,  and  was  pursued  by  General  Sher- 
man, commanding  a  corps  of  the  Federal  Army. 
After  a  severe  encounter  at  Jackson,  Johnston  re- 
•treated  to  Newton  Station,  and  was  again  followed 
by  Sherman. 

Now  the  Confederate  leader,  desiring  to  know 
whether  or  not  his  antagonist  intended  to  pursue  him 
farther  across  the  country,  determined  to  send  a  scout 


162         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

around  Sherman's  army  to  ascertain,  among  other 
things,  the  size  of  his  wagon  train.  To  this  end  he  in- 
structed the  commander  of  the  cavalry  to  send  him 
an  efficient  trooper, — a  cavalier  of  tried  courage, 
sagacity,  and  reliability.  Wafe  was  at  once  selected 
and  ordered  to  report  to  General  Johnston. 

Some  of  Wafe's  close  friends  learned  of  the  project, 
and  in  discussing  the  perilous  adventure  Joe  8  said, 

"Well,  if  Wafe  is  provided  with  a  good  horse  he'll 
come  out  all  right." 

Billie,  who  had  chased  Wafe  in  many  a  "game  of 
deer,"  thus  replied,  "In  any  case  of  emergency, 
whether  he  has  a  horse  or  not,  if  he  can  only  get  a 
fair  start  I  defy  the  whole  Yankee  army  to  catch 
him." 

Without  going  into  details,  suffice  it  to  say  Wafe 
made  the  circuit,  and  discharged  the  service  with 
consummate  tact  and  daring.  Venturing  into  critical 
positions  in  order  to  get  full  and  accurate  informa- 
tion, he  had  several  hairbreadth  escapes. 

Returning,  he  made  his  report  to  General  Johnston, 
who  correctly  divined  from  it  that  Sherman  would 
push  the  invasion  no  further,  and  so  notified  the 
president  of  the  Confederacy.  Taking  Wafe  by  the 
hand  he  said:  "I  congratulate  you  on  the  success  of 
your  mission,  and  thank  you  for  your  valuable  serv- 
ices." 


STORIES  OF  OAT  163 

Wafe  is  still  living,  hale  and  healthy.  While  he  is 
not  so  great  a  tease  as  in  the  olden  times,  yet  Nick 
would  not  now  "go  in  swimming"  with  him  without 
some  assurance  that  Wafe  would  not  "duck"  him. 

STORIES  OF  OAT 

• 

This  is  not  the  first  time  the  reader  has  heard  of 
Oat,  one  of  Nick's  close  and  lifelong  friends.  Once 
when  the  12th  was  camped  near  Grenada,  Missis- 
sippi, the  colonel  sent  for  Nick  and  Oat  and  said, 

"Nick,  I  wish  you  and  Oat  to  go  to  Jackson  to  ob- 
tain some  clothing  and  blankets  for  the  regiment. 
You  can  leave  on  the  train  this  afternoon,  which  will 
put  you  in  Jackson  about  eleven  to-night." 

In  handing  them  their  permits  and  orders  for  the 
supplies  he  added,  "Now,  you  men  will  have  to  be 
very  careful  in  Jackson  as  to  where  you  go,  for  the 
smallpox  is  said  to  be  raging  in  all  parts  of  the  city." 

When  Oat  and  Nick  reached  Jackson  it  was  very 
dark,  cold,  and  rainy.  There  were  no  hotels  or  board- 
ing houses  to  go  to,  so  they  at  once  set  out  to  find 
some  kind  of  shelter  that  would  at  least  protect  them 
from  the  rain.  After  strolling  around  in  the  darkness 
for  some  time  they  came  upon  an  old  rickety  box  car 
standing  on  a  sidetrack. 

"This  will  do,"  said  Oat. 

STORIES   OF   DIXIE. — 11 


164        STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

They  grasped  the  heavy  shutter  of  the  door  and 
were  sliding  it  back,  when  some  one  within  shouted, 
"Who's  that?" 

"Two  soldiers  looking  for  shelter,"  replied  Oat. 

"You  had  better  stay  out  of  here,"  said  the  voice 
within;  "there  are  two  cases  of  smallpox  in  here." 


"That's  all  right,"  said  Oat;  "we've  got  the  small- 
pox too." 

"The  devil  you  say !  Well — you  fellows  stand  aside 
till  we  get  out." 

So  Oat  and  Nick  stood  aside;  the  fellows  within 
crawled  out  and  scampered  off  to  parts  unknown. 

As  they  stretched  out  on  their  hard  and  lonely 
couch  Oat  said,  "Nick,  the  greatest  thing  in  this 
world  is  bluff;  it  has  more  to  do  with  a  man's  success, 
in  peace  and  in  war,  than  any  other  one  thing." 

As  a  rule,  the  Dixie  soldiers  were  always  hungry — 
at  least  hungry  for  some  "good  old  home-cooked 
food."  Citizens  living  near  a  camp  of  soldiers,  being 
so  often  called  upon  by  the  troops  for  one  favor  or 


STORIES  OF  OAT  165 

another,  especially  food,  were  so  stripped  of  every- 
thing, that  they  had  less  and  less  to  give,  and  less  and 
less  disposition  to  do  so.  One  day  Oat  and  Nick 
walked  far  into  the  interior,  hoping  to  secure  a  good 
meal  at  some  remote  place  that  had  not  been  an- 
noyed and  "eaten  out"  by  the  soldiers. 

Stopping  in  front  of  a  house,  Nick  said,  "Now,  Oat, 
you  do  the  talking." 

In  response  to  Oat's  loud  "Hello"  a  lady  came  out 
on  the  front  gallery,  and  the  "gallant  soldiers" 
bowed  very  low  to  her,  wishing  her  to  know  how  much 
better  their  manners  were  than  their  garments. 

"Madam,"  said  Oat,  "we  are  so  hungry  we  feel 
as  if  we  were  hollow  from  our  mouths  to  our  feet. 
Can't  you  let  us  have  something  to  eat?" 

"My  friends,"  said  the  lady,  "there  is  nothing 
cooked  on  this  place,  and  there  is  very  little  to  cook. 
We  women  have  a  hard  time  trying  to  make  a  living 
with  our  sons  and  husbands  in  the  war.  Truly,  if  I 
had  it  I  would  divide  the  last  morsel  with  you." 

"Madam,"  said  Oat,  "we  believe  you,  and  wish  we 
had  the  means  of  helping  you.  Please  pardon  us  for 
this  intrusion.  Good-by." 

The  two  soldiers  raised  their  hats,  and  were  walking 
quietly  away,  when  the  lady  said,  "My  friends,  I 
have  a  large  quantity  of  fine  peaches  which  I  have 
just  picked  for  drying  purposes.  If  you  like  good 


166         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

peaches^  and  will  come  in,  you  may  have  all  you 
wish." 

In  a  moment  Oat  and  Nick  were  in  the  house. 

They  found  one  of 
the  rooms  to  be  full 
of  large  cotton  bas- 
kets, and  each  of 
these  was  filled  with 
choice  peaches.  Fol- 
lowing a  suggestion 
of  the  lady  it  did  not 
take  the  boys  long  to 
slide  a  basket  out 
into  the  hall,  take 
their  seats  by  it,  and  begin  to  eat.  Truly,  as  Oat 
said  subsequently,  they  "laid  up  for  the  future  as  a 
camel  does  for  the  desert  journey;  peaches  passed 
from  sight  under  their  manipulations  as  eggs  do  in 
a  sleight  of  hand  performance." 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  lady,  "some  of  those 
peaches  are  very  fine;  look  over  them  and  select  the 
best." 

Then  Oat,  laying  down  his  knife,  looking  and  speak- 
ing very  earnestly,  and  as  if  to  relieve  her  of  all 
anxiety  in  the  matter,  said,  "My  dear  madam,  it 
don't  really  make  any  difference  'cause  we  are  going 
to  eat  'em  all  anyhow." 


STORIES  AND  HARDSHIPS  167 

General  John  B.  Gordon  told  a  good  story  of  a 
soldier  in  his  old  regiment  whose  leg  was  so  shattered 
by  the  fragment  of  a  bomb  that  it  had  to  be  ampu- 
tated. He  was  discharged  from  the  army  and  went 
home.  But  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  walk  with  the 
aid  of  crutches  he  returned  to  the  army  and  reen- 
listed,  determined  to  help  the  cause  in  any  way  he 
could.  One  night,  shortly  after  his  return,  he  at- 
tended a  prayer  meeting.  The  chaplain  led  the  serv- 
ices, and  in  his  prayer  he  implored,  "O  Lord,  give 
our  men  more  zeal,  more  courage,  more  fortitude, 
and " 

Just  here  he  was  interrupted  by  the  one-legged 
soldier,  who  said, 

"Ah,  parson,  you've  got  that  all  wrong;  we  have 
a  plenty  of  all  that;  what  we  want  you  to  pray  for  is 
more  ammunition  and  provisions;  let  Him  give  us 
these  and  we'll  attend  to  all  the  rest." 

Not  many  soldiers  in  ancient  or  modern  times  ever 
did  more  hard  service,  and  on  such  meager  supplies, 
than  the  Confederates.  Throughout  many  a  long 
campaign  they  had  not  a  change  of  clothes.  The 
same  coats,  trousers,  and  shoes  were  worn  summer 
and  winter,  and  one  can  well  imagine  how  thin 
and  ragged  they  became.  During  the  last  two 
years  of  the  war  there  were  no  tents,  and  the  only 
means  the  men  had  of  protecting  themselves  from 


168         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


rain   and   cold    was   the   few   blankets   they   could 
pack. 

The  main  cooking  vessels  were  frying  pans  and 

light  camp  kettles, 
and  these  the  men 
often  carried  by  hand 
or  suspended  to  their 
belts.  The  usual 
food  was  corn  bread, 
made  of  unsifted 
meal,  about  a  half  ra- 
tion of  poor  beef, 
and  red  pepper,  of 
which  latter  there 
was  always  plenty.  When  the  pones  of  bread  be- 
came hard  and  dry,  as  they  did  when  two  or  three 
days  old,  they  were  soaked  in  water,  cooked  into 
mush,  and  seasoned  with  red  pepper.  This  choice  (?) 
dish  was  called  "cush."  The  men  were  usually  so 
hungry  that  to  them  cush  was  real  good  food.  Nick 
often  thought,  "If  I  ever  get  home  I  am  going  to 
have  Aunt  Kitty  to  cook  me  as  much  cush  as  I  want." 
During  the  Tennessee  campaign  under  General 
Hood  the  army  suffered  very  much  from  toil,  cold, 
and  hunger.  Once,  while  on  the  retreat,  Nick  was 
trudging  along  with  the  remnant  of  the  12th,  and 
wondering  if  he  could  find  some  waste  grains  of  corn 


AN  INTERRUPTED  ORATION  169 

where  horses  had  been  fed.  Jim  coming  in  from  the 
rear,  put  his  hand  on  Nick's  shoulder  and  asked  him 
in  a  whisper,  "Nick,  do  you  like  chicken  pie?" 

Nick  was  at  once  interested,  thinking  or  hoping 
that  maybe  Jim  10  had  somewhere  and  somehow  ob- 
tained some  of  that  good  old  Georgia  dish.    With  an 
intense  anxiety  he  asked  also  in  a  whisper, 
"Jim,  tell  me  truly,  why  do  you  ask  that?" 
"Well,"  quietly  replied  Jim,  "I  didn't  think  you 
did,  for  I  never  see  you  eating  any." 

AN  INTERRUPTED  ORATION 

Some  men  are  cut  out  for  one  thing  and  some  for 
another.  A  great  lawyer  might  have  made  a  poor 
mechanic  and  a  good  farmer  an  indifferent  surgeon. 
That  a  man  is  unequal  to  a  certain  duty  or  office  is 
often  no  reflection  on  his  gifts;  probably  he  is  far 
superior  intellectually  to  him  who  is  so  fitted.  One 
can  hardly  think  of  a  greater  misfit  than  Charles  J. 
Fox  or  Lord  Byron  as  a  commander  and  trainer  of  a 
military  company.  Every  old  soldier  of  any  war 
knows  that  leadership  in  social  and  civil  life  is  no 
assurance  of  leadership  in  military  life;  and  vice 
versa. 

In  the  Southern  army  were  many  brilliant  young 
men  who  had  been  reared  in  wealthy  and  cultured 


170         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

homes,  and  educated  in  the  best  schools  of  the  coun- 
try— high  livers  and  good  fellows  every  inch  of  them, 
thoroughly  at  home  in  the  parlor,  on  the  rostrum, 
and  in  the  salons  of  fashionable  circles,  and  every- 
where racy,  charming,  and  without  vanity.  Yet 
many  of  them  never  attained  to  military  rank  or  dis- 
tinction, partly  because  they  were  not  fitted  by  habits 
or  temperament  for  office,  but  mostly  because  they 
cared  but  little,  if  at  all,  for  it.  They  regarded  office, 
in  its  lower  aspects,  somewhat  as  they  did  that  of 
overseer  on  their  father's  plantation.  To  be  first 
among  equals  they  considered  worth  while,  but  power 
and  command  over  the  masses  was  to  them  "the 
tawdry  eminence  that  bosses  crave  and  shallow  snob- 
bish people  admire."  To  them  the  petty  detail  of  the 
service  was  drudgery  and  its  pomp  and  show  mum- 
mery. The  battle,  especially  a  dashing  and  hazardous 
charge,  was  the  one  thing  which  broke  the  monotony 
and  into  which  they  entered  with  gusto,  if  not  with 
thrilling  delight. 

One  of  these  cultured,  rollicking  fellows  was 
Syranus  n — handsome,  graceful,  and  full  of  laughter, 
song  and  story.  He  had  at  least  one  weakness — a 
weakness  then  common  to  all  of  his  kind:  he  some- 
times drank  too  much  "booze"  and  became  tipsy. 
When  in  this  "happy  state"  his  first  and  main 
thought  was  to  make  a  speech. 


AN  INTERRUPTED  ORATION  171 

During  the  "hundred-days  fight"  from  Dalton  to 
Atlanta  Syranus  was  on  detail  in  the  commissary 
department,  and  for  the  time  took  no  part  in  the 
fighting  except  when  he  slipped  away  to  participate 
in  a  battle.  This  he  did  now  and  then,  being  a  good 
mixture  of  the  fighter  and  the  dreamer.  One  day  he 
got  some  "Louisiana  rum,"  became  tipsy,  and  made 
his  way  to  the  front  where  the  men  were  stationed 
behind  a  high  breastwork.  It  was  near  Marietta, 
Georgia. 

"Boys,"  said  he,  addressing  mainly  his  old  friends, 
"I  came  out  here — hie — to  make  a  speech — hie — to 
those  Yankees  over  there  in  front  of  the  works- 
hie — and  my  purpose  is  to  bring  this  crazy  war  to  a 
close — hie— 

His  friends,  thinking  it  all  swagger,  paid  but  little 
attention  to  him  and  less  to  his  silly  proposition. 
Almost  unnoticed  by  them  he  mounted  the  breast- 
work and  in  a  clear,  ringing  voice  began: 

"Gentlemen  of  the  United  States, — hie — I  re- 
spectfully ask  your  earnest  attention  for  a  few 
moments. — hie — My  purpose  is  to  pave  the  way  to 
the  closing  of  this  cruel  war. — hie — I  would  assure 
you  on  the  honor  of  a  gentleman — hie — that  it  is 
quite  a  different  thing  to  live  in  Boston  and  gossip 
of  raids  into  the  South  and  to  live  in  the  South  and 
experience  them. — hie — 


172        STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


Two  of  his  cousins,  Joe9  and  Billie,5  knowing  the 
great  danger  he  was  in,  seized  him  by  the  legs  and 

were  about  to  pull 
him  off  the  works, 
when  he  turned  his 
back  to  the  front 
and  said,  "Now, 
boys,  I  insist  that 
you  permit  me  to 
go  on;  I  know  what 
I'm  doing  —  hie  — , 
and—" 

"Bang,"  went  a  gun  out  in  front,  and  "whack," 
the  ball  hit  Syranus  in  the  back. 

It  then  took  no  more  coaxing  or  pulling  to  get  him 
off  the  works;  the  speech  and  also  the  drunk  were 
brought  to  a  sudden  close. 

Fortunately  Syranus  was  wearing  a  belt,  and  still 
more  fortunately  the  ball  struck  it  and,  hitting  it  a 
glancing  blow,  inflicted  only  a  severe  bruise.  The 
next  morning  Joe 8  and  Nick,  both  cousins  of  Syranus, 
called  to  see  him. 

"Syranus,"  said  Joe,  "what  could  have  possessed 
you  to  do  a  thing  so  silly  and  foolhardy?" 

"Joe,"  replied  Syranus,  "drink  not  only  blunts 
my  sense  of  fear  but  inclines  me  to  give  expres- 
sion to  my  most  serious  thoughts.  Lately  I  have 


AN  INTERRUPTED  ORATION  173 

been  brooding  over  the  silliness,  incongruities,  and 
injustice  of  this  war,  and  I  suppose  it  was  of  that 
that  I  desired  to  speak." 

"Tell  us,"  said  Nick,  "just  what  you  mean  by  all 
that." 

"Well,  briefly,  it  is  this:  at  least  half  of  the  men  in 
the  Southern  Army,  although  fighting  in  a  way  for 
secession,  do  not  believe  in  it.  Indeed,  they  made 
the  political  fight  of  their  lives  to  defeat  it. 

"Again,  as  you  are  aware,  a  large  proportion  of  the 
slave  owners  of  the  South,  including  all  our  kith  and 
kin  and  such  representative  men  as  Judge  McGehee,* 
are  in  favor  of  freeing  the  negroes,  provided  it  be 
done  by  the  plan  of  'gradual  emancipation.'  By 
that  method  the  negroes  could  be  prepared  for 
freedom,  and  in  the  meantime  the  South  could  work 
out  of  the  labor  system  in  and  by  which  all  her 
agricultural,  commercial,  and  educational  ways  and 
means  have  been  molded  and  operated  for  genera- 
tions. 

"  Furthermore,  that  humane  and  rational  method 
of  freeing  the  negroes  would  conserve  the  kind 
and  sympathetic  relation  which,  in  general,  has 
always  existed  between  the  two  races  in  the  South. 
In  any  event,  the  singular  situation  is  that  we 
are  fighting  to  break  up  the  union  and  perpetuate 

*  Judge  McGehee  probably  had  more  slaves  than  any  man  in  the  South. 


174         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

slavery,  when  we  are  in  a  way  opposed  to  both 
these  projects." 

"If  the  partisans  and  fanatics,"  continued  he, 
"could  have  been  set  aside  and  the  common  people, 
North  and  South,  could  have  been  brought  into  a 
free  and  full  conference  over  the  questions  at  issue,  I 
believe  the  Union  could  have  been  preserved  and 
that  the  negroes  could  have  been  freed  without  any 
war.  But  this,  I  suppose,  was  impracticable  and 
therefore  impossible.  One  thing,  however,  is  very 
clear  to  my  mind  and  that  is,  the  Federal  Gov- 
ernment should  at  least  have  tried  to  follow  the  ex- 
ample set  by  Great  Britain  in  freeing  her  slaves — 
buy  them  and  set  them  free." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  continued  he,  "that  such  a 
course  was  recommended  by  every  consideration 
of  justice,  equity,  and  law.  Evidently  the  North 
and  the  South  were  alike  responsible  for  the  'in- 
stitution of  slavery'  in  this  country;  the  'system' 
grew  up  under  the  fostering  care  of  the  Constitu- 
tion itself;  if  it  is  a  crime  it  is  one  that  the  South 
has  incontrovertibly  inherited  from  the  founders  of 
the  republic;  if  the  world  has  awakened  to  a  sense 
of  its  inhumanity  and  immorality  the  Government 
should  not  have  lost  sight  of  its  obligations  in  the 
matter,  but  should  have  sought  to  eliminate  the  evil 
by  correct  and  honorable  business  methods." 


AN  INTERRUPTED  ORATION  175 

"Syranus,"  said  Joe,  "suppose  Mr.  Lincoln,  im- 
mediately after  his  election  or  before  the  Southern 
States  began  to  secede,  had  announced  that  as 
his  policy,  that  is,  to  have  the  Government  pay 
the  South  a  fair  sum  for  the  slaves  and  then  set 
them  free,  do  you  think  the  South  would  have  ac- 
cepted the  offer? "  . 

"I  do  not,"  said  Syranus;  "the  Southern  States 
were  then  and  are  now  contending  for  a  principle 
rather  than  an  institution — the  right  to  control 
their  own  affairs  in  accordance  with  and  under  the 
guarantees  of  the  Constitution.  But  I  do  believe 
that  Mr.  Lincoln  would  thereby  have  made  a  fa- 
vorable impression  on  the  Southern  people,  and 
probably  have  prevented  the  secession  of  the  South- 
ern States.  There  was  already  intense  opposition 
to  secession  throughout  the  South;  most  of  the 
Southern  States  seceded  by  only  small  majorities, 
and  I  doubt  not  that  Mr.  Lincoln  could  have  de- 
feated it,  at  least  in  some  instances,  by  the  mani- 
festation of  such  an  unmistakable  evidence  of  fair- 
ness to  the  South. 

"I  may  be  unduly  prejudiced  in  the  matter,  but 
it  is  hard  for  me  to  reconcile  his  failure  to  do  so 
with  his  undoubted  good  judgment,  independence  of 
thought  and  action,  sense  of  fair  play,  and  great  good 
nature." 


176         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


THE  CONFEDERATE  ARMY  STARTS  FOR  TENNESSEE 

At  the  close  of  the  "hundred-days  fight"  the  Fed- 
eral Army,  under  General  Sherman,  had  possession 
of  Atlanta,  while  the  Confederate  Army,  now  under 
General  Hood,  toil-worn  and  battle-scarred,  was  lying 
near  Jonesborough,  just  south  of  Atlanta.  On 
September  18,  1864,  General  Hood's  army  left  that 
place,  and  started  on  the  long  march  into  Tennessee. 
Soon  after  that  General  Sherman's  army  started  on 
what  is  called  "The  march  to  the  sea."  Thus  the 
two  armies  moved  off  in  nearly  opposite  directions. 
By  that  time  the  South  had  put  in  service  all  its 
available  men;  indeed,  as  General  Grant  said,  it  had 
"robbed  the  cradle  and  the  grave"  to  strengthen 
its  armies.  So  General  Sherman  in  his  march  to  the 
sea  had  little  more  to  dispute  his  way  than  defense- 
less old  men,  women  and  children. 

The  route  of  the  Confederate  Army  led  across 
northern  Georgia,  thence  across  northern  Alabama, 
and  thence  into  Tennessee,  crossing  the  Tennessee 
River  on  a  pontoon  bridge  near  Florence.  The  army 
passed  through  the  battle  ground  of  New  Hope 
Church  and  the  sites  of  other  battles  of  the  "hundred- 
days  fight."  These  scenes  of  conflict  were  now  sad 
sights.  When  the  battles  were  fought,  mostly  in 


THE  ARMY  STARTS  FOR  TENNESSEE     177 


June  and  July,  the  trees  were  covered  with  green 
leaves;  but  nearly  all  the  trees,  large  and  small, 
were  killed  by  musket  and  cannon  balls  in  the 
fierce  combats;  so  that  the  once  lovely  forests  now 
looked  like  old  deadenings;  they  were  still  covered 
with  foliage,  but  it  was  brown  and  crisp.  Not  a 
cow,  hog,  chicken,  or  even  a 
bird  could  be  seen.  Scattering 
stalks  of  green  corn,  oats  and 
barley  were  growing  in  the 
woods  from  seeds  dropped  by 
the  armies  in  feeding  the  stock. 
These  green  plants,  so  attract- 
ive under  normal  conditions, 
were  here  silent  mementos  of 
the  ravages  of  war. 

One  beautiful  afternoon  the 
army   pitched   camp    near    the 
Etowah  River.     The  water  was 
clear,  and  sang  with  a  sweet 
murmur  as  it  flowed  between 
its    clean    and    pebble-lined 
banks.     Several  of  the  men 
went   to    the    river    with 
their    canteens   to   get   a 
supply   of   water  for  the  ^ 
night.    Nick   was  in   the 


178 


STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


party,  and  as  he  neared 
the  stream  he  saw 
something  floating  in 
the  water  which  he 
thought  might  be  valu- 
able. It  had  lodged 
against  a  large  rock  in 
the  middle  of  the  river. 

Quietly  but  quickly  his  coat  and  shoes  were  "shucked 
off,"  and  before  the  others  knew  what  he  was  up 
to,  he  plunged  into  the  chilly  water  and  swam 
to  the  rock.  Climbing  up  on  it  and  walking  to 
its  upper  end,  he  stooped  and  lifted  from  the 
water  a  first-class  hickory  shirt.  What  a  glorious 
find!  In  an  ecstasy  of  joy  he  waved  it  above  his 
head,  and  there  is  no  telling  how  much  he  was 
envied  by  the  men  who  were  watching  him  from  the 
shore.  Nick  wore  that  shirt  into  Tennessee,  anH 
afterwards  into  North  Carolina. 


A  STUDENT-SOLDIER  179 

Nick,  on  returning  to  his  comrades,  said,  "Boys, 
when  I  was  on  that  rock  I  looked  across  the  river 
and  saw  many  pumpkins  in  the  field  on  the  other 
side." 

That  was  another  glorious  find  in  which  all  the 
men  were  at  once  interested.  It  was  soon  known 
throughout  camp,  and  nearly  every  man  in  the 
12th  made  a  rush  for  the  river.  They  swam  across, 
and  each  of  them,  I  suppose,  got  one  or  more  pump- 
kins. Their  recrossing  of  the  river  with  the  pumpkins 
was  the  prettiest  sight  Nick  saw  during  the  war. 
As  they  swam  they  pushed  the  pumpkins  ahead  of 
them  or  held  them  by  their  stems  with  their  teeth, 
and  all  were  as  gay  and  sportive  as  if  they  had  been 
on  a  picnic.  That  evening  the  camp  kettle  was 
brought  into  use,  and  the  Dixie  boys  had  a  great 
feast  in  which  the  only  dishes  were  "  cush "  and 
boiled  pumpkin,  and  these  were  seasoned  only  with 
salt  and  red  pepper. 

A  STUDENT-SOLDIER 

If  this  story  has  a  moral  it  is  that  a  lad  who  has 
the  will  can  learn  much  without  a  teacher,  and  that 
too  under  the  most  adverse  circumstances.  However, 
one  may  not  be  entitled  to  much  credit  for  persever- 
ance expended  in  pursuit  of  a  subject  that  he  really 

STORIES   OF    DIXIE.— 12 


180         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

likes.  When  Nick  left  college  for  the  war  his  class 
was  just  finishing  the  sophomore  year,  and  therefore 
had  not  reached  the  higher  mathematics — analytics 
and  calculus.  In  the  subjects  passed  over,  arith- 
metic, algebra,  geometry,  and  trigonometry,  Nick 
was  quite  thorough,  owing  to  a  liking  rather  than  a 
talent  for  mathematics,  though  wise  men  tell  us 
that  the  former  is  some  evidence  of  the  latter. 

In  addition  to  Nick's  fondness  for  the  subject 
he  had  a  consuming  desire  to  see  what  lay  beyond  the 
boundaries  of  his  attainments.  The  attempt  to 
satisfy  this  desire  occupied  his  mind,  if  not  his  time, 
during  the  war  more  than  all  the  affairs  of  camp 
and  field.  When  not  actively  engaged  on  duty  he 
found  delight  in  poring  over  some  problem  or  theorem 
of  real  or  imaginative  entities.  Speaking  of  him 
Joe8  said,  "He  swims  around  most  of  the  time  in  a 
sea  of  formulas." 

Nick  formed  such  a  liking  for  tactics  that  he  ob- 
tained a  copy  of  Hardee's  textbook  on  the  subject, 
which  was  then  in  use,  and  made  a  study  of  it.  The 
result  was  that  he  was  often  detailed  to  drill  squads 
and  companies.  Having  been  elected  second  ser- 
geant of  his  company,  and  finding  that  the  duties 
were  such  as  to  allow  him  more  or  less  time  for 
study,  he  retained  that  office  throughout  the 
war. 


A  STUDENT-SOLDIER  181 

At  some  old  secondhand  bookstore  Nick  obtained 
a  copy  each  of  Davies's  Analytic  Geometry  and 
Differential  and  Integral  Calculus,  packed  them 
from  place  to  place,  and  entered  into  their  wonderful 
unfoldings  with  no  less  of  diligence  than  delight. 
Such  was  his  progress  in  these  and  other  subjects 
that  at  the  close  of  the  war  Homer  College  tendered 
him  the  chair  of  mathematics,  and  conferred  on  him 
the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts.  Subsequently  he 
prepared  textbooks  on  calculus  and  trigonometry 
which  were  adopted,  respectively,  by  Yale  and 
Harvard. 

Of  course  it  would  be  out  of  place  in  a  sketch  like 
this  to  notice  in  detail  Nick's  achievements  in  va- 
rious kinds  of  mathematical  work  and  research. 
The  point  is  not  that  he  did  so  much  but  that  he 
accomplished  what  he  did  without  a  teacher  and 
almost  without  the  aid  of  books.  Among  the  inter- 
esting formulas  which  he  deduced  is  the  following 
singular  value  of  the  ratio  of  the  circumference  of 
a  circle  to  the  diameter: 

ir=2(l— !)*(!— 1)—*. 

Many  years  after  the  war  the  proof  of  this  formula 
was  given  in  a  mathematical  magazine  published 
at  DesMoines,  Iowa,  edited  by  Dr.  J.  E.  Hendricks. 

Nick's  "musical  circle"  will  probably  be  of  interest 
to  a  much  wider  circle  of  readers.  Some  of  the  young 


182 


STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


men  of  the  regiment  organized  a  brass  band  and 
Nick  joined  it  largely  for  the  purpose  of  studying  the 


science  of  music.     He  believed,  and  still  believes, 

that  the  laws  of  music  can  be  "harnessed  in  and  by 
mathematical  formulas"  pretty 
much  as  the  laws  of  projectiles 
and  electricity  are.  In  this  un- 
dertaking he  was  led  to  the  dis- 
r<7  covery,  among  other  things,  of 
the  following  simple  mnemonic 
device  for  remembering  the  order 
of  the  sharps,  flats,  and  keys. 

This  little  artifice  is  now  published  for  the  first  time, 

fifty  years  after  its  discovery. 


Nick's  Musical  Circle 


A  PERILOUS  ADVENTURE  183 

Draw  a  circle,  and  divide  the  circumference  into 
seven  equal  parts.  Begin  at  any  point  of  division 
and  write  A,  and  at  the  alternate  points  write  in 
order,  B,  C,  D,  E,  F,  G.  This  arrangement  gives  at 
once : 

(1)  The  order  of  the  sharps,    F,  C,  G,  D,  A,  E,  B. 

(2)  The  keys  by  sharps,          G,  D,  A,  E,  B,  F,  C. 

(3)  The  order  of  the  flats,       B,  E,  A,  D,  G,  C,  F. 

(4)  The  keys  by  flats,  F,  B,  E,  A,  D,  G,  C. 

A  PERILOUS  ADVENTURE 

A  long  time  ago,  in  a  humble  home  in  the  great 
city  of  New  York,  was  born  a  boy  named  Robert.12 
Henry  Ward  Beecher  said,  "There  is  no  telling  what 
is  wrapped  up  in  a  boy's  jacket."  This  might  well 
have  been  applied  to  Robert,  though  he,  like  many 
other  heroic  souls,  has  never  attained  great  wealth 
or  high  station  in  civil  life. 

When  quite  a  young  man  he  came  to  the  South, 
and,  like  many  other  good  and  brave  men  of  the 
North,  became  one  of  the  Dixie  people.  When  the 
Civil  War  broke  out  he  was  among  the  first  to  enlist 
in  the  Confederate  Army.  He  began  as  a  private 
but  soon  became  a  captain.  He  was  in  the  siege  at 
Port  Hudson;  that  is,  he  was  with  the  Dixie  soldiers 
who  were  hemmed  in  there  by  the  Federal  soldiers, 


184         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

so  that  they  (the  Dixie  boys)  could  get  no  more  food 
from,  and  have  no  conference  with,  their  friends  on 
the  outside. 

Now  Robert  told  the  Dixie  leader,  General  Gard- 
ner, that  he  would  carry  a  message  from  him  to  Gen- 
eral Johnston,  the  Dixie  leader  on  the  outside,  al- 
though several  men  had  already  tried  to  do  so,  and 
had  been  killed  or  captured  on  the  way.  The  general 
wrote  the  message,  gave  it  to  Robert,  and  said, 
"Good-by.  God  bless  you." 

The  Mississippi  River  flows  by  Port  Hudson,  and 
is  1200  yards  wide  there.  Robert  knew  the  country 
well,  as  it  was  not  far  from  his  home.  His  plan  was  to 
swim  the  river  and  land  at  a  point  about  fifteen  miles 
below,  because  the  bank  opposite  Port  Hudson  was 
guarded  by  Federal  sentinels.  One  night  about  nine 
o'clock,  with  five  canteens  buckled  around  his  waist, 
he  waded  into  the  water  and  began  his  long  swim. 

The  swim  was  not  only  a  long  but  a  perilous  one. 
The  river  was  lined  with  Federal  gunboats  and  its 
banks  with  Federal  pickets;  the  route  led  through 
many  eddies  and  cross-currents  of  the  great  river; 
the  long  stay  in  the  water  was  likely  to  produce 
cramps;  and  the  peril  was  increased  by  his  having 
to  swim  in  his  clothes.  He  reached  his  landing 
place  about  four  o'clock  the  next  morning,  his 
swim  having  lasted  about  seven  hours.  He  delivered 


A  PERILOUS  ADVENTURE 


185 


the  message  to  General  Johnston  at  Jackson,  Mis- 
sissippi, and  then  took  a  message  from  General 
Johnston  back  to  General  Gardner. 

In  returning,  Robert  crossed  the  river  in  a  horse 
trough  a  few  miles  above  Port  Hudson,  and  went 
down  the  western  bank  to  a  point 
just  opposite  Port  Hudson.  There 
he  waited  in  the  bushes  until  the 
sentinels  were  posted  on  the  levee. 
He  thus  learned  their  posi- 
tions. And  so,  after  dark,  he 
passed  unseen  between  two 
of  them,  and,  reaching  the 
river,  swam 
across  into 
Port  Hudson. 
Both  the  of- 
ficers, John- 
son and  Gard- 
ner, spoke  in 
high  praise 
of  his  con- 
duct.* 


.*  On  the  Boulevard  at  Baton  Rouge  is  a  Confederate  monument. 
Here  the  local  ex-Confederates  often  assemble  to  tell  anew  the  stories 
of  the  past.  Prominent  in  this  assembly  is  Robert,  respected  and  es- 
teemed in  his  old  age  by  all  who  know  him. 


186         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


GENERAL  SHERMAN  AND  COLONEL  BOYD 

The  Louisiana  State  University,  now  domiciled 
at  Baton  Rouge,  had  its  origin  in  the  Louisiana  State 
Seminary  and  Military  Academy,  which  was  located 
in  the  piny  woods  near  Alexandria,  Louisiana.  This 
embryo  of  the  university  began  its  career  January  2, 
1860,  with  William  Tecumseh  Sherman  as  Superin- 
tendent, and  David  French  Boyd  as  Professor  of  An- 
cient Languages.  Colonel  Sherman  was  an  Ohioan 
and  a  graduate  of  West  Point;  and  Professor  Boyd 
was  a  native  of  Virginia,  and  a  graduate  of  her  great 
university.  Between  these  two  men,  who  had  so 
many  like  qualities  of  heart  and  mind,  there  sprang 
up  at  once  a  mutual  admiration,  which  ripened  into 
a  friendship  that  strengthened  with  the  lapse  of 
years. 

Pending  the  growing  estrangement  between  the 
North  and  the  South,  which  culminated  in  the  seces- 
sion of  the  Southern  states  in  1861,  Colonel  Sher- 
man frankly  and  firmly  sided  with  the  North,  and 
when  Louisiana  seceded  he  at  once  resigned  the 
superintendency  of  the  Seminary,  went  North,  ten- 
dered his  services  to  President  Lincoln,  and  became 
one  of  the  greatest  generals  of  the  Civil  War. 

Professor  Boyd  espoused  the  cause  of  the  South, 


SHERMAN  AND  BOYD  187 

and  was  among  the  first  to  enlist  in  her  military 
service.  During  the  first  two  years  of  the  war  he 
served  gallantly  in  the  Army  of  Virginia.  He  was 
then  transferred  to  the  Trans-Mississippi  Depart- 
ment and  assigned  to  the  corps  of  engineers  under 
General  Taylor,  with  the  rank  of  major. 

In  the  dense  woods  near  Alexandria,  while  running 
some  contour  lines,  Major  Boyd  was  seized  by  a  band 
of  jayhawkers.*  As  they  hurried  him  along  to  their 
secluded  retreat  they  debated  as  to  what  disposition 
they  would  make  of  him.  The  majority  favored 
"putting  him  out  of  the  way,"  but  some  advocated 
turning  him  over  to  the  "Yankees"  in  exchange  for 
coffee  and  sugar.  Before  deciding  the  matter  they 
reached  Black  River,  and  while  crossing  the  stream 
their  skiff  capsized,  and  one  of  the  guerrillas  would 
have  been  drowned  had  it  not  been  for  the  help  of 
Major  Boyd.  This  kind  act  of  the  prisoner  caused 
the  captors  to  decide  upon  carrying  him  to  the 
Federals  at  Vidalia,  Louisiana. 

Then  followed  a  long  and  toilsome  tramp  across 
the  swamp  of  the  great  river.  The  jayhawkers, 
fearing  encounters  with  citizens  and  Confederate 
scouts,  traveled  mostly  in  the  deep  woods  or  along 
bypaths  which  led  through  solitudes  unrelieved  by 
the  faintest  trace  of  man.  Major  Boyd  had  a  fine 

*  Guerrillas. 


188 


STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 


and  irrepressible  sense  of  humor,  and  never  was  it  a 
greater  support  to  him  than  on  this  trying  occasion. 

He  was,  as  it 
were,  the  one 
cheerful  spirit 
in  a  mourning 
household.  Ar- 
riving finally  at 
Vidalia  he  was 
turned  over  to 
the  Federals,  the 
inference  being 

that  he  was  bartered  for  coffee  and  sugar.  His 
quarters  were  established  in  the  local  jail  pending 
his  transference  to  some  northern  prison. 

In  the  meantime  General  Sherman,  now  high  in 
rank  and  in  the  councils  of  his  country,  came  along 
on  a  tour  of  inspection,  and  hearing  of  the  fate  of  the 
major  had  him  escorted  to  his  office.  When  they  met 
smiles  broke  suddenly  like  beams  of  light  on  their 
faces.  Each  realized,  as  probably  never  before, 
that  there  are  ties  which  even  war  can  not  sever. 

At  that  time  Confederate  prisoners  were  exchange- 
able or  not  according  to  certain  local  conditions, 
not  necessary  to  explain  here.  General  Sherman,  in 
order  to  get  the  major  on  the  exchangeable  list, 
determined  to  take  him  to  New  Orleans  and  turn  him 


SHERMAN  AND  BO  YD  189 

over  to  General  Banks.  So  he  had  the  major  to 
take  passage  with  him  on  his  boat,  and  on  the  trip 
down  the  river  treated  him  as  his  honored  guest, 
providing  him  with  a  stateroom  and  having  him  to 
dine  at  the  same  table  with  himself.  After  a  short 
confinement  in  prison  at  New  Orleans  the  major 
was  exchanged  and  at  once  returned  to  his  duties 
under  General  Taylor. 

Soon  after  the  war  Major  Boyd  was  elected  super- 
intendent of  the  Seminary,  which  position  carried 
with  it  the  rank  of  colonel  in  the  state  militia.  The 
rest  of  this  story,  though  important  as  to  the  facts 
related,  will  probably  be  most  interesting  to  the 
general  reader  by  its  disclosure  of  General  Sherman's 
continued  regard  for  the  institution  and  its  new 
president. 

In  1869  the  buildings  of  the  Seminary  were  de- 
stroyed by  fire,  and  the  institution  was  removed  to 
Baton  Rouge,  and  temporarily  housed  in  a  part  of 
the  large  edifice  erected  by  the  state  for  the  care  and 
education  of  its  deaf  and  dumb.  In  1874  Colonel 
Boyd,  on  the  recommendation  of  General  Sherman, 
was  appointed  superintendent  of  the  Khedivial  Mili- 
tary Academy,  Cairo,  Egypt.  This  position  the 
colonel  declined  chiefly  on  account  of  his  aversion 
to  severing  his  connection  with  the  school  intrusted 
to  his  care,  although  at  that  time  the  institution  was 


190         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

literally  perishing  for  want  of  the  support  of  the 
"carpetbag"  state  government,  and  also  of  the  im- 
poverished people  struggling  under  its  untold  evils 
and  abuses. 

General  Sherman  became  commander  of  the  army 
in  1869,  which  position  he  resigned  in  1884.  In 
1879,  while  passing  through  the  South  looking  after 
military  conditions,  he  stopped  over  at  Baton  Rouge, 
and  for  the  time  was  the  guest  of  the  institution  into 
which  the  Seminary  expanded  on  the  decline  of  the 
carpetbaggers:  namely,  the  Louisiana  State  Uni- 
versity. A  banquet  was  tendered  him  by  the  school 
in  which,  using  the  language  of  the  general,  many 
"gallant  men  who  wore  the  gray"  cheerfully  partici- 
pated. 

Lying  along  the  north  boundary  of  the  city  of 
Baton  Rouge  is  a  stretch  of  land  containing  210 
acres,  with  a  high  bluff-front  of  600  yards  overlook- 
ing the  Mississippi  River.  This  beautiful  and 
valuable  tract  is  now  the  home  and  property  of 
the  university,  and  no  more  appropriate  site  for  a 
great  school  is  imaginable.  When  one  surveys  it, 
one  is  equally  attracted  by  its  beauty,  its  health- 
fulness,  its  value,  and  its  interesting  and  romantic 
history.  It  is  ideal  for  pleasure  and  meditation. 
The  imagination  is  touched  and  kindled  by  the 
thousand  stirring  associations  which  hover  over  it. 


SHERMAN  AND  BOYD  191 

Here  played  the  mighty  forces  which  molded  the 
civilization  of  the  Southwest,  and  here  Louisiana 
laid  the  foundation  of  her  future  greatness  and  power. 
A  typical  Louisiana  spot — carpeted  with  a  living 
green  and  lulled  by  the  ceaseless  murmur  of  the 
Father  of  Waters — fields  of  corn  and  rice,  cotton  and 
sugar  cane  stretch  out  around  it,  gulf  breezes  sweep 
over  it,  and  the  dark  shadows  of  the  live  oak  and 
magnolia  fall  across  it.  How  the  university  came  by 
this  splendid  property  is  as  naturally  asked  as  it  is 
briefly  answered. 

Attracted  by  its  elevation  and  commanding  posi- 
tion, Bienville  established  a  military  post  here 
soon  after  the  founding  of  New  Orleans  (1718). 
Under  the  successive  dominations  of  the  French, 
Spaniards,  and  Americans  the  post  was  continued, 
improved,  and  expanded  into  a  strong  garrison  with 
massive  buildings  for  supplies,  officers,  and  men. 
At  one  time  or  another  nearly  all  the  noted  soldiers 
of  the  nation  were  stationed  here.  It  was  the  home 
of  General  Taylor  when  he  was  elected  President 
of  the  United  States.  Beneath  the  splendid  oaks 
listening  crowds  of  citizens  and  soldiers  have  hung 
with  rapture  on  the  lips  of  the  nation's  great  states- 
men and  orators. 

In  the  course  of  time  the  conditions  which  made 
it  advisable  to  found  and  maintain  a  military  post 


192         STORY  OF  EVENTS  OF  THE  WAR 

at  Baton  Rouge  ceased  to  exist,  and  in  1878  the 
Government  discontinued  the  garrison.  General 
Sherman,  ever  thoughtful  of  the  school  away  down  in 
Dixie  which  he  helped  so  much  to  establish,  recom- 
mended that  the  property  be  turned  over  to  that  in- 
stitution. This  proposition  was  warmly  seconded 
and  persistently  pushed  by  the  Louisiana  delegation 
in  Congress.  In  1884  a  bill,  introduced  by  Hon. 
A.  B.  Irion,  was  passed  giving  the  university  the  use 
of  the  grounds  arid  buildings,  and  in  1902  a  bill, 
introduced  by  Hon.  S.  M.  Robertson,  was  passed 
making  a  complete  donation  of  the  property  to  the 
university  for  all  time. 

General  Sherman  died  in  1891  and  Colonel  Boyd 
in  1899.  Though  dead,  yet  at  "L.  S.  U."  they  still 
live.  A  beautiful  memorial  hall,  erected  by  the 
alumni  of  the  university  in  memory  of  David  French 
Boyd,  adorns  the  grounds;  and  in  the  assembly  hall, 
side  by  side  with  those  of  Robert  E.  Lee  and  Stone- 
wall Jackson,  hangs  a  life-size  portrait  of  William 
Tecumseh  Sherman.* 

*  The  present  President  of  the  university  is  Col.  Thos.  D.  Boyd,  a 
younger  brother  of  Col.  D.  F.  Boyd,  and  under  his  able  administration 
the  institution  has  had  a  remarkable  growth  every  way — in  buildings, 
equipments,  and  attendance;  in  colleges  of  arts  and  sciences,  agriculture, 
and  engineering,  and  in  schools  of  law,  sugar,  and  pedagogy. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  STORY  OF  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR 

CHEERFUL  ENDURANCE 

In  a  speech  just  before  the  war  a  secessionist 
said,  "The  South  can  whip  the  North  with  popguns." 
Just  after  the  war  the  speaker  was  derisively  re- 
minded of  his  boast.  Not  in  the  least  abashed  the 
old  stager  replied:  "We  could  have  done  it,  but 
they  wouldn't  fight  us  that  way." 

A  Georgian,  returning  from  the  war,  consoled 
himself  with  this  reflection:  "I  am  going  home  now 
and  make  a  crop;  as  for  the  war  I'm  satisfied — I 
killed  as  many  of  them  as  they  did  of  me." 

On  his  way  home  after  the  surrender  a  "Johnnie 
Reb"  (Confederate)  fell  in  with  a  "Bobby  Link" 
(Federal),  and  they  were  having  a  "high  old  lark" 
together. 

"Johnnie,"  said  Bobby;  "we  licked  you." 

"You  didn't,"  said  Johnnie;  "we  jes  wore  ourselves 
out  er  licking  you." 

Probably  no  part  of  the  Civil  War  is  more  inter- 
esting, and  certainly  none  is  more  pathetic,  than  the 

193 


194     THE  STORY  OF  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR 


surrender  of  the  Confederate  Army  and  the  return 
of  the  warworn  veterans  to  their  distant  and  deso- 
late homes.   The 
Dixie  boys'   ca- 
pacity for  cheer- 
f  u  1    endurance, 
which  had  been 
— r<n.       their     mainstay 

m& 


in  the  toils  and 
privations  of 
camp  and  field, 
was  now  the  one 
bright  star  in  the  rayless  night  settling  over  the 
Southern  states. 

Every  resource  of  the  South  had  been  taxed  to 
the  point  of  exhaustion.  With  her  600,000  men  she 
had  met  the  2,750,000  of  the  North,  fought  over 
every  foot  of  her  soil,  and  protracted  the  struggle 
until  more  than  half  her  forces  were  slain,  disabled, 
or  imprisoned.  Many  sections  of  Dixie,  having 
been  tramped  over  by  both  armies  and  swept 
by  fire  and  sword  for  four  years,  might  now  an- 
swer to  Sheridan's  description  of  the  Shenandoah 
Valley: 

"The  crow  that  flies  over  it  must  carry  his  rations 
with  him." 

Yet  when  the  end  came  the  men  stacked  their 


Doctor  James  W.  Nicholson 


CLOSING  SCENES  195 

guns  in  sadness  but  not  in  tears  or  bitterness.  Re- 
turning to  their  homes  they  found  their  houses  in 
ruins,  their  farms  destroyed,  their  slaves  freed, 
their  stock  killed,  and  their  yards  and  gardens  over- 
grown with  weeds.  What  then  and  there  occurred 
is  well  told  by  the  eloquent  Grady: 

"What  does  he  do — this  hero  in  gray  with  a  heart 
of  gold?  Does  he  sit  down  in  sullenness  and  despair? 
Not  for  a  day.  The  soldier  stepped  from  the  trenches 
into  the  furrow;  horses  that  had  charged  Federal 
guns  marched  before  the  plow,  and.  fields  that  ran 
red  with  human  blood  in  April  were  green  with  the 
harvest  in  June.  Cheerfulness  and  frankness  sweet- 
ened the  energy  which  made  bricks  without  straw 
and  spread  splendor  amid  the  ashes  of  their  war- 
wasted  homes." 

CLOSING  SCENES 

The  last  battle  in  which  the  12th  took  part  was 
the  one  at  Bentonville,  North  Carolina  (March  20, 
1865).  On  the  retreat  from  there  it  passed  through 
Raleigh,  and  here  the  men  heard  of  the  surrender 
of  General  Lee  (April  9,  1865).  A  deep  gloom  like  an 
ominous  cloud  fell  on  the  troops — they  had  reached 
the  climax  of  "the  ever  deepening  tragedy  of  war." 
Legweary  and  footsore  they  plodded  on  toward 

STORIES   OF   DIXIE. — 13 


196     THE  STORY  OF  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR 


Greensboro.  Their  sad  plight  was  the  more  touching 
because  of  their  tattered  garb  and  empty  haver- 
sacks. 

Never  did  the  men  stand  in  greater  need  of  re- 
animation;  and  with  the  want  there  came,  as  usual, 
"the  doctor."     This  time  it  was  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Pepper,  Presbyterian  chaplain  of  a  Mississippi  regi- 
ment.   Everybody  loved  "  Brother  Pepper  " 
because  of  his  helpfulness,  wit,  gaiety,  and 
goodness.     He  had  somewhere  picked  up 
what  appeared  to  be  the  skeleton  of  an  old 
swaybacked  horse.    This  animal's  neck  and 
back  formed  a  deep  concave  arc,  the  high- 
est points  being  his  ears  and  the  root 
of   his    tail.     The   regiment    having 
stopped   for   a   short  rest,   the  men 
were  lying  on  the  grass  by  the  road- 
side when  Brother  Pepper  came  along 
on  old  "traveler,"  without  saddle  or 
bridle. 


CLOSING  SCENES 


197 


At  once  a  regular  fusillade  poured  on  him  from  the 
ranks. 

"Hello,  parson,  how  did  you  make  the  raise?" 

"Say,  Brother  Pepper,  is  that  a  horse  or  a  kan- 
garoo? Come  out  of  that  fork,  old  man,  I  know  you 
are  in  there,  because  I  see  your  feet." 

"Look  here,  Brother  Pepper,  is  that  the  war 
horse  you're  going  to  charge  'em  on?" 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  preacher,  "one  question 
at  a  time,  if  you  please." 

"Brother  Pepper,  what  I'd  like  to  know  is  this, 
how  much  is  passage?" 

"Now,  Jim,"  10  replied  the 
chaplain,  "if  you  are  really 
tired  of  walking,  and  will  give 
me  a  dollar  for  my  services, 
I'll  teach  you  how  to  pace." 

Nick,  having  served  in  the 
Army  of  Tennessee,  never  saw 
General  Lee,  yet  felt  as  if  he 
knew  him  personally.  How 
many  times  had  he  been 
cheered  by  the  news,  "Lee 
has  whipped  'em  again."  In 
every  camp  and  home  of  Dixie  during  the  war  the 
main  theme  of  conversation  and  the  chief  object  of 
adoration,  was  "Mars  Robert."  Never  was  a  man 


198     THE  STORY  OF  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR 

more  idolized  by  soldiers  and  citizens.  Their  confi- 
dence in  him  as  a  commander  and  their  esteem  for 
him  as  a  man  were  boundless.  With  them,  as  so 
graphically  stated  by  Hon.  Benjamin  Hill:  "He  pos- 
sessed every  virtue  of  other  commanders  without 
their  vices — a  foe  without  hate,  a  soldier  without 
cruelty,  a  victor  without  oppression,  and  a  victim 
without  murmuring; — as  gentle  as  a  woman  in  life, 
and  grand  in  battle  as  Achilles." 

In  a  word,  he  was  the  ideal  of  the  South;  and  while 
this  is  high  praise  of  him  it  is  none  the  less  eulogistic 
of  the  people  of  Dixie,  for  a  real  artist  is  an  artist 
only  to  those  who  are  themselves  more  or  less  artists. 
They  must  have  had  something  of  the  same  high 
elements  of  character. 

To  this  may  be  ascribed  the  achievements  so 
forcibly  and  classically  described  by  the  gifted 
Thomas  Nelson  Page: 

"The  South  produced  a  people  whose  heroic  fight 
against  the  forces  of  the  world  has  enriched  the  an- 
nals of  the  human  race,  and  whose  fortitude  in  de- 
feat has  been  more  splendid  than  their  valor  in 
war." 

The  12th  belonged  to  that  part  of  the  Army  of 
Tennessee  which  was  surrendered  at  Greensboro, 
North  Carolina,  April  26,  1865.  The  capitulation 
of  these  two  main  armies  of  the  South  brought  the 


CLOSING  SCENES  199 

war  to  a  close.  What  battles  had  been  fought! 
What  thousands  had  been  slain!  What  countless 
sums  had  been  expended!  The  deeds  of  heroism  on 
both  sides  have  probably  never  been  surpassed  in 
all  the  annals  of  warfare.  Surely  both  sides  thought 
they  had  something  to  fight  for. 

What  was  it  all  about?  Something  smacking  of 
real  intelligence  and  patriotism  now  warns  the 
writer  to  be  careful  what  he  says.  There  is  such  a 
thing  as  "the  pot  calling  the  kettle  black."  Few 
have  been  the  quarrels  in  this  world  in  which  both 
parties  were  not  to  some  extent  blamable.  The 
kind  of  man  that  makes  one  ashamed  of  the  national 
melting  pot  is  he  who  "searches  the  Bible  for  passages 
which  may  be  interpreted  as  sure  damnation  for  his 
enemies  and  sure  glory  for  himself."  "Charity  is 
the  first  breath  of  real  heaven  that  men  and  women 
feel  here  on  earth." 

They  were  all  Americans — the  products  of  our 
republican  ideals  and  institutions — and  all  "fought 
for  the  right  as  God  gave  them  to  see  the  right." 
The  valor,  fortitude,  and  disinterestedness  of  both 
sides  is  the  glorious  heritage  of  the  American  people. 
That  from  which  we  should  draw  the  greatest  hope 
and  promise,  and  in  which  we  should  feel  the  greatest 
pride  and  pleasure,  is  the  assurance  that  Americans, 
North  and  South,  are  formed  of  the  clay  out  of  which 


200     THE  STORY  OF  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR 

the  best  soldiers  and  citizens  are  fashioned  by  the 
hands  of  the  Great  Potter. 

In  the  fullness  of  time  there  may  be  erected  in 
Washington,  District  of  Columbia,  a  joint  monu- 
ment to  Grant  and  Lee,  built  by  the  free  offerings 
of  the  people  of  all  sections  of  our  great  country  and 
in  appreciation  of  the  splendid  products  of  our  re- 
publican institutions.  So  mote  it  be. 

THE  FORTUNES  OF  AN  OLD  FLAG 

Anyone  who  has  served  in  an  army  that  has 
fought  many  battles  and  borne  many  hardships 
knows  how  much  the  men  come  to  prize  and  love 
their  flag.  With  them  it  is  a  companion  that  has 
shared  their  joys  and  sorrows,  cheered  them  in  the 
sunshine  of  triumph,  and  consoled  them  in  the  shad- 
ows of  adversity.  It  is  prized  by  them,  not  merely 
as  the  emblem  of  their  country,  but  also  as  a  member 
of  the  family,  and  the  more  so  if  the  men  and  the 
flag  have  grown  old  together  in  the  service  and  are 
alike  weather-stained  and  battle-scarred. 

That  the  men  of  the  12th  had  this  feeling  for 
their  flag  is  shown  by  the  following  incident.  When 
it  became  known  that  the  regiment  was  to  be  sur- 
rendered, Leon,13  the  adjutant,  began  to  devise  some 
plan  by  which  the  dear  old  flag  might  be  kept  from 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  AN  OLD  FLAG   201 


falling  into  the  hands  of  strangers.  He  mentioned 
the  matter  to  a  few  of  his  friends,  one  of  whom  was 
Nick. 

The  interest  of  the  men  was  at  once  awakened, 
and  they  began  to  suggest  ways 
by  which  it  could  be  done.  The 
following  will  show  the  plan 
agreed  upon.  That  night  they 
went  quietly,  one  by  one,  to  a 
nearby  woodland;  and,  having 
concealed  themselves  in  a  dense 
copse,  they  took  off  Leon's 
clothes,  and  wrapped  and  pinned 
the  flag  closely  around  his  body. 
Leon  was  a  thin  bony  fellow  and 
did  not  look  unduly  large  when 
he  put  his  clothes  on  over  the 


The  next  day  the  regiment 
was  surrendered,  but  the  flag 
could  nowhere  be  found.  The 
colonel  (Graham)  was  much  in- 
censed, but  his  threats  and  ap- 
peals were  alike  unavailing.  Leon  thus  carried  the 
flag  to  his  distant  home  in  Bastrop,  Louisiana, 
where  he  guarded  and  preserved  it  for  many,  many 
years.  In  the  course  of  time  the  Memorial  Hall  in 


202     THE  STORY  OF  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR 

New  Orleans  was  built  for  the  preservation  of  just 
such  relics.  To  this  beautiful  hall  Leon  consigned 
the  flag,  and  there  it  has  been  ever  since.  The 
sequel  of  this  story  may  not  be  uninteresting: 

Forty-two  years  after  the  surrender,  when  Hon. 
N.  C.  Blanchard  was  governor  of  Louisiana,  the 
flags  captured  from  the  Confederates  were  returned 
to  the  several  Southern  states.  Extensive  prepara- 
tions were  made  in  New  Orleans  for  the  reception 
of  these  now  mute  emblems  of  American  valor 
and  good  will.  The  governor  was  to  be  present  and 
receive  the  flags  in  behalf  of  the  state.  It  so  happened 
at  the  last  moment  that  he  could  not  go,  and  he 
asked  Nick  to  go  in  his  place. 

In  the  presence  of  a  large  assembly  in  Memorial 
Hall,  Nick  took  the  flags,  one  at  a  time,  from  the 
box  in  which  they  had  been  carefully  packed  and 
shipped,  and  read  their  descriptions  as  given  by  the 
adjutant  general.  Great  applause  followed  each 
announcement,  and  continued  as  the  curator  bore 
the  flag  to  its  assigned  position.  Thus,  as  Nick  said, 
"In  this  Southern  Pantheon  they  have  taken  their 
places  in  the  silent  assembly  over  which  hover 
the  legends  and  story  of  Dixie,  its  ideals  and  its 
chivalry." 

"In  conclusion,"  said  he,  "for  one  reason  it  is  well 
that  the  governor  asked  me  to  represent  him  on  this 


THE  CURTAIN  FALLS  203 

occasion,  and  that  one  reason  makes  my  presence 
here  somewhat  of  a  coincidence.  You  have  probably 
noticed  that  the  flag  of  the  12th  regiment  was  'not 
present  or  accounted  for '  in  this  consignment.  It 
so  happens  that  I  can  explain  the  cause  of  its  ab- 
sence." 

Then  he  pointed  to  the  old  flag  in  question  and 
told  its  interesting  history. 

THE  CURTAIN  FALLS  ON  A  SCENE  BOTH  SAD  AND  DROLL 

Of  the  one  thousand  two  hundred  men  that  had 
belonged  to  the  12th  from  first  to  last  only  about 
one  hundred  seventy-five  were  left  to  be  surrendered, 
and  many  of  these  were  sick,  feeble,  or  maimed.  It 
soon  became  known  that  the  surgeon  would  examine 
the  men  and  report  such  as  were  unable  to  walk 
to  their  far-away  homes  in  Louisiana.  These  were 
to  be  given  transportation  by  rail,  and  all  the  others — 
the  strong  and  healthy — would  have  "to  foot  it." 

"Nick,"  said  Oat,  "I  believe  I'm  taking  the 
rheumatism." 

"Why,"  asked  Nick,  "do  you  select  rheumatism 
instead  of  some  other  disease?" 

"Because,"  said  Oat,  "the  doctor  can't  tell  from 
a  fellow's  pulse,  or  tongue,  or  temperature  whether 
he  is  lying  or  not." 


204     THE  STORY  OF  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR 

Oat's  purpose  was  to  have  some  fun  as  well  as  to 
get  a  long  ride. 

When  the  drum  beat  for  the  sick  to  fall  in  for  the 
examination,  Oat,  with  one  leg  bent  at  the  knee  and 
one  arm  at  the  elbow,  hobbled  along  on  a  stout 
stick  as  if  in  great  pain.  He  took  his  place  in  the 
long  line  of  men  enfeebled  by  disease  or  bullets. 


Tottering  in  weakness  and  in  rags  these  grim  war- 
riors of  many  a  well-fought  field  were  pitiable  to 
behold,  and,  as  the  surgeon  drew  near,  the  most 
forlorn  phenomenon  of  the  whole  line  was  Oat. 

On  reaching  Oat  the  surgeon  asked,  "What  is 
the  matter  with  you?" 

"Got  the  rheumatism,"  said  Oat. 

"Where  is  it  located?"  inquired  the  doctor. 


THE  CURTAIN  FALLS  205 

"Mostly  in  my  joints,  but  there  is  also  a  pain  in 
my  back  as  long  and  wide  as  the  blade  of  a  saw." 

He  played  the  role  so  cleverly  that  he  obtained  a 
pass  to  ride,  and  so  comically  that  it  put  the  whole 
camp  to  laughing,  and  thus  changed  the  gloomy 
occasion  into  a  very  pleasant  affair. 

*  To  show  how  poor  were  the  means  for  traveling  by  rail  we 
will  run  ahead  of  our  story,  and  relate  a  strange  coincidence. 

Among  those  who  secured  permits  to  go  by  rail  on  account 
of  disabilities  were  Mark19  and  William,10  and  these  were  home- 
neighbors  of  Nick.  On  May  2,  Nick,  in  bidding  them  good-bye, 
said,  "Tell  my  people  I  am  well,  and  will  get  home  sometime." 

One  month  afterwards,  June  2,  Nick  and  his  party,  on  their 
way  home,  were  ascending  the  Mississippi  River,  riding  on  the 
hurricane-deck  of  a  steamboat.  On  reaching  the  mouth  of  Red 
River  Nick  remarked,  "See,  Mac,  our  boat,  instead  of  turning 
into  the  Red,  seems  to  be  going  to  the  Mississippi  side."  Mac, 
looking  ahead,  saw  two  men  standing  on  the  Mississippi  shore, 
and  replied,  "I  reckon  she  is  going  over  to  take  those  two  fellows 
aboard."  Sure  enough,  the  boat  landed,  and  as  the  two  men 
started  aboard  Nick  exclaimed,  "Look,  Mac,  for  the  life  of  me, 
it  is  Mark  and  William.  What  a  singular  coincidence!" 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  railroads  that  it  took  Mark 
and  William  one  month  to  go  from  Greensboro  to  Vicksburg. 
At  that  time  the  river  was  very  high,  and,  the  levees  being 
destroyed,  the  entire  Mississippi  bottom  was  buried  beneath  a 
great  overflow.  So  the  two  wayfarers  could  reach  home  from 
Vicksburg  only  by  descending  the  Mississippi  River  and  ascend- 
ing the  Red.  They  arrived  at  the  Red  just  in  time  to  catch  the 
boat  on  which  was  their  regiment. 

There  are  probably  few  other  instances  in  which  pedestrians 
kept  pace  with  railroad  trains  for  a  distance  of  a  thousand  miles. 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

THE  REMNANT  STARTS  HOME 

When  those  on  the  "sick  list"  had  been  given 
passes  there  were  left  in  the  12th  about  seventy 
well  men  who  had  to  make  their  way  home  as  best 
they  could.  They  regarded  the  long  tramp  with  less 
aversion  than  one  would  at  first  imagine.  "They 
had  been  schooled,"  as  Joe  said,  "in  toils  and  hard- 
ships until  they  could  walk  like  horses,  endure  like 
oxen,  and  sleep  anywhere  that  alligators  could." 
Furthermore,  they  would  have  no  loads  to  carry 
except  an  old  blanket  apiece,  and,  being  free  from 
military  restraints,  could  go  as  they  pleased. 

On  the  third  day  of  May  they  turned  their  faces 
westward,  Nick  being  one  of  the  party,  and  with 
only  $1.10  apiece  (their  part  of  the  Confederate 
treasury)  they  started  on  the  long  journey  across 
North  Carolina,  South  Carolina,  Georgia,  Alabama, 
Mississippi,  and  into  Louisiana.  As  a  rule  they  trav- 
eled about  thirty  miles  per  day.  Their  movements 
showed  a  striking  example  of  the  force  of  habit.  So 

206 


THE  REMNANT  STARTS  HOME 


207 


accustomed  were  they  to  marching  in  order,  that,  no 
matter  how  they  started,  they  would  soon  be  walking 
with  the  step  in 
files  of  twos  or 
fours. 

Their  chief  want 
was  something  to 
eat.  It  was  prob- 
ably Tom  15  who 
described  them  as 
being  "too  poor  to 
buy,  too  proud  to 
beg,  and  too  honest 
to  steal."  So  they 
were  in  a  bad  fix. 
However,  the  Fed- 
eral provost  marshals  in  the  larger  towns  issued 
them  "small  rations  of  hardtack  and  pickled  pork." 
The  ladies  along  the  way  were  always  anxious  to  help 
them,  but  they  were  often  as  destitute  as  the  soldiers 
themselves.  Every  place  bore  mute  but  eloquent 
testimony  to  the  ravages  of  war.  Often  the  fields 
and  gardens  were  destroyed,  and  not  a  cow,  hog, 
or  chicken  could  be  seen  about  the  wasted  homes. 
Fortunately,  black  berries  were  ripening  along  the 
roadside,  and  these  helped  to  allay  the  pangs  of 
hunger. 


208     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 


Their  route  is  indicated  by  the  following  towns, 
through  which  they  passed :  Salisbury  and  Charlotte, 
North  Carolina,  Union  and  Abbeville,  South  Caro- 
lina, Atlanta  and  LaGrange,  Georgia,  and  Opelika 
and  Montgomery,  Alabama. 

Near  Abbeville  they  loitered  for  some  time  about 
the  boyhood  home  of  John  C.  Calhoun.  A  halo 
of  memories  seemed  to  hover  over  and  illumine  every 
spot  on  which  the  boy  once  romped,  laughed,  and 
mused.  Amid  the  reflections  suggested  by  these 
scenes  one  is  reminded  of  the  large  number  of  great 
men  who  were  reared  in  the  country.  Washington, 
Jefferson,  and  Madison,  Calhoun,  Clay  and  Webster, 
Lincoln,  Davis,  and  Lee,  and  many  other  truly 
great  men  were  country-raised  boys.  Behind  the 
simple  and  potential  strength  of  all  these  men  lay 
the  forces  which  were  molded  in  youth  by  the  toils 
and  lessons,  tonics  and  inspirations,  of  country  life. 

Although  Nick  (or  rather  his  people)  did  not 
belong  to  the  political  party  of  which  Calhoun  was 
the  leader  and  the  exponent,  nor  wholly  indorsed  his 
views  of  slavery,  yet  no  one  surpassed  Nick  in  ap- 
preciation of  the  mental  force  and  moral  integrity 
of  the  great  South  Carolinian.  As  Mr.  Davis  says. 


A  GREAT  SOUTHERN  LEADER     209 

"His  prophetic  warnings  speak  from  the  grave  with 
the  wisdom  of  inspiration."  It  was  a  beautiful 
tribute  paid  him  by  Daniel  Webster,  his  greatest 
political  rival,  though  his  personal  friend:  "There 
was  nothing  groveling,  or  low,  or  meanly  selfish, 
that  came  near  the  head  or  the  heart  of  Mr.  Cal- 
houn." 

Probably  the  most  memorable  event  in  the  life  of 
Calhoun  was  the  debate  between  him  and  Webster 
on  the  character  of  the  Federal  Government.  What 
many  of  the  thoughtful  and  conservative  men  of  the 
South  thought  of  that  debate  and  of  the  two  partici- 
pants is  briefly  expressed  in  the  following  extract 
from  an  address  delivered  by  Nick  in  1912  on  the 
occasion  of  the  Commencement  Exercises  of  the 
Louisiana  State  Normal  School.  The  speaker  in 
discussing  the  function  and  potentiality  of  the 
imagination,  and  the  importance  of  training  it, 
said, 

"The  great  historian  is  not  he  who  merely  garners 
the  facts  and  statistics  of  the  past  and  presents 
them  in  a  logical  and  chronological  order,  but 
he  who  takes  these  facts  and  by  an  exuberant  and 
constructive  imagination  breathes  into  them  the 
breath  of  life.  He  reproduces  the  motives  and 
spirit  of  the  past  and  transports  the  reader  into  its 
joys  and  its  sorrows.  He  not  only  articulates  its 


210     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

dry  bones,  but  he  puts  flesh  upon  them  and  sends 
the  warm  blood  coursing  through  the  veins. 

"We  need  not  revert  to  other  times  or  climes  for  a 
striking  instance  of  the  potentiality  of  a  trained  and 
constructive  imagination.  We  have  one  in  the  history 
of  our  own  country.  Calhoun  and  Webster  were 
great  orators  and  statesmen.  Calhoun  excelled  in 
logic  and  Webster  in  imagination.  The  memorable 
debate  between  these  two  intellectual  giants  on  the 
character  of  the  Federal  Government  shook  the 
nation  from  center  to  circumference.  It  was  a  battle 
royal  between  facts  fortified  by  logic  on  the  one  side 
and  facts  vitalized  by  imagination  on  the  other. 
Thirty  years  thereafter  the  issue  was  decided  by 
the  arbitrament  of  battle,  and  logic  went  down  under 
the  onward  sweep  of  imagination." 

AN  OLD-TIME  SOUTHERN  ARISTOCRAT 

Having  strolled  on  ahead  of  the  rest  of  the  party 
Nick  crossed  the  Savannah  River  all  alone,  and  im- 
mediately left  the  main  road  in  search  of  food. 
Really  he  had  learned  what  it  is  to  be  hungry.  How 
different  is  the  ordinary  craving  for  food  from  that 
produced  by  months  of  poor  and  insufficient  nutri- 
ment. To  persons  who  have  felt  only  the  former, 
the  "pangs  of  hunger"  are  utterly  meaningless 


AN  OLD-TIME  SOUTHERN  ARISTOCRAT    211 


words.  Hunger  such  as  the  Confederates  often 
endured,  is,  as  Eggleston  says,  "the  great,  despairing 
cry  of  a  wasting 
body — an  agony  of 
the  whole  body 
and  soul  as  well." 

Nick  presently 
approached  a 
dwelling  which 
had  seen  better 
days.  It  appeared 
to  be  deserted  ex- 
cept by  the  swal- 
lows that  fluttered 
about  the  old 
weatherstained  columns.  In  response  to  his  "hello" 
a  venerable  old  lady  came  out  on  the  front  gallery. 
She  wore  a  home  spun  dress  and  a  frilled  cap.  In 
her  face  and  bearing  there  was  something  familiar 
to  Nick — an  expression  that  he  had  known.  "Prob- 
ably," thought  he,  "I  have  seen  her  before."  No; 
what  he  recognized  was  merely  the  common  mark 
of  a  typical  Southern  woman  of  the  upper  class. 

She  was  a  so-called  "Southern  Aristocrat."  But 
Nick  knew,  and  all  her  neighbors  knew,  that  her 
aristocracy  was  one  of  nobility  rather  than  of  wealth, 
fortune,  and  rank.  From  that  home  comfort  and 

STORIES    OF    DIXIE. 14 


212     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

luxury  might  depart  but  the  sweet  ministrations  of 
culture  and  refinement  never.  No  one  could  ap- 
proach her  with  undue  familiarity,  yet  her  inter- 
course with  the  prince  and  the  pauper,  the  master 
and  the  slave,  was  marked  by  the  gentlest  courtesies. 
While  she  was  proud,  hers  was  a  heart  that  could 
reach  down  to  the  suffering  and  hold  poor  little  dying 
babes  on  her  breast.  In  her  face  was  a  firmness 
which  was  as  soft  as  velvet  and  yet  as  inflexible  as 
steel.  Her  face  had  a  haggard  look,  such  a  look  as 
comes  from  toil,  anxiety,  and  scanty  food,  but  be- 
hind it  all  was  a  fortitude  that  toil  could  not  chill  nor 
privations  shatter.  Her  husband  and  older  sons  had 
perished  in  battle,  and  the  fruits  of  their  toil  and 
thrift  were  perishing  around  her;  but  for  all  that  she 
bore  herself  with  a  brave  composure.  In  the  throes 
of  impending  disasters  she  might  lose  all, — might  go 
to  the  stake  or  to  penury, — but  she  would  meet  it 
supported  by  the  serene  and  supreme  conviction  that 
she  was  a  lady. 

It  was  a  part  of  her  creed  to  consider  no  woman 
refined  who  does  not  naturally  avoid  the  society 
of  men;  Nick  knew  this,  but  he  also  knew  that  she 
would  not  be  unladylike  even  to  a  stranger  or  a 
beggar.  Lifting  his  cap  he  approached  her  rever- 
ently but  with  the  utmost  freedom.  Gently  touching 
his  hand  she  said,  "My  dear  boy,  you  are  hungry; 


AN  OLD-TIME  SOUTHERN  ARISTOCRAT    213 


come  with  me  into  the  dining  room."    His  clothes 
were  ragged  and  his  shoes  tied  together  with  strings; 
but  that   made  no 
difference  with  her, 
provided  only  that 
he  was  a  gentleman. 

Arriving  at  the 
table  she  lifted  an 
immaculate  white 
cloth  and  thus  un- 
covered a  few  pones 
of  corn  bread  and 
two  roasted  squir- 
rels. To  these  she 
helped  Nick  bounti- 
fully, but  made  no 
apology  for  the  coarse  and  scanty  fare.  With  a  well- 
balanced  mixture  of  mirth  and  sadness  she  chatted 
of  current  events,  but  not  a  word  of  her  own  troubles 
was  spoken.  Nor  did  she  refer  to  a  recent  raid  of 
some  "Yankee  plunderers"  who  had  stripped  her  of 
her  silverware  and  heirlooms. 

As  Nick  was  leaving  she  hailed  a  passing  negro 
and  said  to  him  kindly,  "Henry,  please  show  this 
gentleman  the  near  way  back  to  the  main  road." 
With  his  head  bowed  in  reverence  and  meditation 
Nick  walked  slowly  away.  "I  wonder,"  mused  he, 


214     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

"if  any  country  ever  produced  a  nobler  race  of 
women  than  the  South?  For  courage,  fortitude, 
and  high  ideals  they  surely  have  never  been  sur- 
passed. At  home  and  in  the  hospital,  in  camp  and 
on  the  battle  field,  their  heroic,  self-sacrificing,  and 
merciful  deeds  during  this  terrible  war  will  never  be 
fully  known  'until  the  angels  make  their  report.' ' 

A  FEW  GREAT  GEORGIANS 

Amid  the  ruins  of  Atlanta,  Hon.  A.  H.  Stephens, 
ex-vice  president  of  the  Confederacy,  was  strolling 
about  under  the  escort  of  a  Federal  guard.  He  had 
just  been  arrested  by  order  of  the  national  govern- 
ment, and  was  then  being  taken  to  trial  for  "treason" 
against  his  country.  It  was  a  sad  and  a  ludicrous 
sight.  Bodily  he  was  so  small  he  looked  like  a  boy, 
and  his  guard  so  large  that  he  looked  like  a  giant. 
Nick  was  reminded  by  the  scene  of  a  rather  noted 
incident  that  happened  some  years  before  the  war. 

On  the  occasion  referred  to,  Stephens  and  Judge 

were    opposing    speakers    in    some    political 

controversy.    The  latter,  being  a  very  large  man  and 

wishing  to  discredit  the  former  by  making  sport  of 

his  littleness,  said, 

"If  his  head  were  greased  and  his  ears  pinned 
back  I  could  swallow  him." 


A  FEW  GREAT  GEORGIANS  215 

"Probably  you  could,"  retorted  the  little  man, 
"but  if  you  did  you  would  have  more  brains  in  your 
stomach  than  in  your  head." 

Many  of  the  people  Nick  had  known,  including 
his  father  and  mother,  were  Georgians  by  birth,  and 
a  Georgian,  wherever  found,  seldom  tires  of  extolling 
the  glories  of  the  "Cracker  State."  Therefore, 
Nick  had  heard  much  of  the  "big  men"  of  this  grand 
old  commonwealth,  especially  the  "trio,"  Stephens, 
Hill,  and  Toombs.  These,  so  thought  and  claimed 
many  Georgians,  were  the  peers  of  Clay,  Calhoun, 
and  Webster.  In  this,  as  in  many  other  cases,  there 
may  be  a  difference  between  "Mirabeau  judged 
by  his  friends  and  Mirabeau  judged  by  the  people." 
But  waiving  all  invidious  comparisons,  there  are 
few  who  will  deny  that,  in  the  skill  and  power  of 
oratory,  in  felicity  of  expression  and  exuberance  of 
thought,  in  logic  and  imaginative  force,  the  Georgia 
Trio  was  hard  to  beat. 

Henry  W.  Grady,  himself  a  later  Georgian  who 
"reached  the  high  water  mark  of  modern  oratory," 
said: 

"The  wisest  speech,  and  the  ablest  ever  made  by 
an  American,  in  my  opinion,  is  Mr.  Toombs's 
speech  on  slavery,  delivered  in  Boston  about  ten 
years  before  the  war.  In  that  speech  he  showed  a 
prescience  almost  divine,  and  clad  in  the  light  of 


216      THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

thirty  years  of  confirmation,  it  is  simply  marvel- 
ous." 

"Who  saves  his  country,  saves  all  things,  and  all 
things  saved  will  bless  him.  Who  lets  his  country 
die,  lets  all  things  die,  and  all  things  dying  curse 
him." 

In  the  city  of  Atlanta  this  literary  gem  is  graven 
on  the  statue  of  its  author,  Benjamin  H.  Hill,  and 
in  the  "garden  of  literature"  there  is  probably  not 
a  richer  fruit  or  a  flower  more  beautiful. 

Hill's  tribute  to  Lee  is  no  less  a  mosaic  than  an 
epic: 

"He  was  Csesar,  without  his  ambition;  Frederick, 
without  his  tyranny;  Napoleon,  without  his  selfish- 
ness; and  Washington,  without  his  reward.  He  was 
a  foe  without  hate,  a  friend  without  treachery,  a 
soldier  without  cruelty,  a  victor  without  oppression, 
and  a  victim  without  murmuring." 

In  opposition  to  secession  Stephens  led  the  "union- 
ists." In  the  midst  of  the  momentous  issues  that 
confronted  the  people,  the  secessionists  and  unionists 
were  earnestly  looking  for  light  to  guide  them  in 
that  hour  of  travail  and  uncertainty.  By  request, 
Mr.  Toombs,  a  leading  secessionist,  addressed  the 
General  Assembly  of  Georgia  one  evening  and 
Stephens  addressed  it  the  next  (November  14,  1860.) 
Both  delivered  masterpieces  of  oratory.  The  follow- 


A  FEW  GREAT  GEORGIANS  217 

ing  excerpts  from  the  speech  of  the  latter  are  no  less 
important  lessons  to-day  than  when  delivered: 

Speaking  of  the  benefits  of  the  government  under 
which  we  have  lived  and  prospered  Mr.  Stephens 
said:  "They  are  so  silent  and  unseen  that  they  are 
seldom  thought  of  or  appreciated.  The  influence  of 
the  government  on  us  is  like  that  of  the  atmosphere 
around  us.  We  seldom  think  of  the  single  element 
of  oxygen  in  the  air  we  breathe,  and  yet,  let  this  sim- 
ple, unseen,  and  unfelt  agent  be  withdrawn,  this 
life-giving  element  be  taken  away  from  this  all- 
pervading  fluid  around  us,  and  what  instant  and 
appalling  changes  would  take  place  in  all  organic 
creation." 

In  illustrating  how  hard,  if  not  impossible,  it  is  to 
restore  the  civic  virtues  and  institutions  of  a  country 
when  once  they  have  been  destroyed,  he  thus  cited 
the  case  of  Greece: 

"Descendants  of  the  same  people  inhabit  the 
country;  yet  what  a  mighty  difference.  In  the 
midst  of  present  degradation  we  see  the  glorious 
fragments  of  ancient  works  of  art — temples  with 
ornaments  and  inscriptions  that  excite  wonder  and 
admiration,  the  remains  of  a  once  high  order  of 
civilization  which  have  outlived  the  language  they 
spoke.  Upon  them  all  Ichabod  is  written — their 
glory  has  departed.  Why  is  this  so?  I  answer  thus, 


218     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 


their  institutions  have  been  destroyed.  These 
were  but  the  fruits  of  their  forms  of  govern- 
ment, the  matrix  from 
which  their  grand  de- 
velopment sprung; 
and  when  once  the 
institutions  of  our 
people  shall  have 
been  destroyed,  there 
is  no  earthly  power 
that  can  bring  back 
the  Promethean  spark 
to  kindle  them  here 
again,  any  more  than 
in  that  ancient  land  of  eloquence,  poetry,  and 
song." 

Like  many  other  great  men  Stephens  was  simple 
and  informal  in  his  manners,  and  so  freely  did  he 
intermingle  with  all  classes  that  he  was  widely 
known  as  "the  great  commoner."  Mac  16  and  Nick 
greatly  desired  to  see  him  at  close  range  and  hear 
him  talk.  Knowing  how  accessible  he  was  they  were 
emboldened  to  approach  him,  and,  with  permission 
of  the  guard,  they  did  so,  and  were  received  with  a 
smile,  hearty  handshakes,  and  "I  am  delighted  to 
meet  you." 
There  was  something  in  his  expression  which  be- 


A  FEW  GREAT  GEORGIANS  219 

spoke  anxiety  and  suffering,  yet  he  talked  cheerfully 
and  soon  put  the  boys  at  their  ease.  He  asked  them 
to  tell  him  of  their  surrender,  and  drew  from  them 
much  of  the  details  of  their  long  tramp  from  North 
Carolina  to  Georgia.  As  he  laughed  at  the  ludicrous 
descriptions  of  their  ups  and  downs,  Nick  wondered 
how  a  man  confronted  with  such  serious  concerns 
as  he  was  could  let  his  mind  dwell  on  such  light 
matters. 

As  to  his  own  troubles — his  impending  trial  and 
the  result — he  manifested  but  little  solicitude,  but 
of  public  ills  he  had  grave  forebodings. 

Referring  to  the  results  of  the  war — the  subversion 
of  the  industrial,  economic,  and  social  conditions  and 
affairs  of  the  South — "They  are  bound,"  said  he, 
"to  bring  great  hardships  on  the  Southern  people, 
and  these  will  now  be  aggravated  by  the  unfortunate 
death  of  Mr.  Lincoln.  Had  he  lived  I  doubt  not 
that  he,  now  that  his  main  purpose  of  preserving  the 
Union  has  been  accomplished,  would  have  sym- 
pathized with  the  South  in  her  prostration  and 
poverty,  and  sought  to  aid  her  in  the  readjustment 
of  her  affairs  and  in  the  rehabilitation  of  all  the  forces 
and  agencies  of  peace  and  prosperity." 

"Unfortunately,"  said  he,  "in  stormy  times  like 
these  the  direction  of  public  affairs  so  often  falls  into 
the  hands  of  radicals — men  of  ultra  feelings  and 


220     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

views.  I  fear  that  we  are  headed  towards  trouble; 
the  forces  now  dominating  society  are  not  such 
as  brought  peace  on  earth  and  good  will  to 
men." 

"Mac,"  said  Nick  as  they  walked  away,  "did  you 
notice  how  far  above  all  petty  spite  and  littleness 
he  is?" 

"Let  me  answer  that  question  by  asking  another," 
said  Mac.  "Is  that  not  always  the  case  with  one 
who  has  the  courage  of  a  soldier  and  the  instincts  of 
a  gentleman?" 

One  of  the  many  other  fine  characters  of  Georgia 
was  General  J.  B.  Gordon.  Such  was  Nick's  high 
appreciation  of  him  that  he  named  his  firstborn 
son  "Gordon." 

"My  dear  young  friend,"  once  said  the  general 
to  Nick,  "while  I  thank  you  for  the  compliment, 
I  would  warn  you  to  be  careful  about  naming  your 
sons  after  me  and  my  folks.  We  are  all  Southern 
men  of  the  old  school." 

"General,"  inquired  Nick,  "what  is  your  idea  of  a 
man  of  that  type?" 

"Well,"  replied  the  general,  "he  won't  lie  nor  he 
won't  steal,  but  everything  else  will  he  do." 

General  Gordon  was  fond  of t  a  good  story,  and 
few  surpassed  him  in  the  art  of  telling  one.  En- 
tertaining a  crowd  one  day  he  said: 


A  FEW  GREAT  GEORGIANS 


221 


"These  Episcopal  bishops  are  usually  broad 
gauged  fellows  and  have  the  saving  grace  of 
good  humor.  One  of  this  kind  was  once  travel- 
ing through  the  country  and  came  upon  a  clever 
though  illiterate 
farmer. 

"'My  friend,' 
asked  the  bishop, 
*  what  church  do 
you  belong  to? ' 

'I'm  'piscopal,' 
said  the  farmer. 

'  Who  confirmed 
you? '  inquired  the 
bishop. 

Han't  never  been  er — 'firmed,  that  I'se  heard  of.' 

'  Tell  me,  my  dear  sir,  how  you  became  an  epis- 
copalian.' 

'  Well,  it  was  this  way.  Some  friends  in  the  city 
asked  me  to  come  to  see  'em;  I  went,  and  while 
there  we  all  went  to  meetin'  at  the  'piscopal  Church. 
The  main  thing  I  heard  'em  say  was  this:  We've 
been  doin'  er  mighty  sight  er  things  which  we  hadn't 
ought  er  do,  and  we've  been  leavin'  undone  er  mighty 
sight  er  things  which  we  had  ought  er  do;  then  I 
said  to  myself,  that's  me;  and  ever  since  then  I've 
been  a  'piscopal.' ' 


222      THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

"I  reckon,"  added  the  General,  "we  are  all  more 
or  less  'piscopals." 

Nick  was  reminded  of  this  story  and  its  moral 
quite  recently  in  reading  a  good  book  in  which  he 
found  this:  "If  we  all  faced  the  truth  about  things, 
instead  of  sheltering  ourselves  in  deceptions,  perhaps 
the  world  would  begin  to  improve." 

And  also  this:  "What  fakirs  we  are — if  anyone 
confesses  to  us  things  not  half  as  bad  as  what  we 
ourselves  do  or  think,  how  often  do  we  set  that  one 
down  as  a  living,  breathing  atrocity." 

A  LONG  AND  JOLLY  RIDE 

The  extended  tramp  across  the  defunct  Confeder- 
acy, so  fraught  as  we  have  seen  with  toils  and  pri- 
vations and  clouded  by  the  shadows  of  present  and 
impending  troubles,  was  not  devoid  of  enjoyable 
scenes  and  experiences.  One  of  the  places  ever 
remembered  by  the  wayfarers  as  an  "oasis  in  the 
desert"  is  Opelika,  Alabama.  Hearing  of  the  hunger 
of  these  homewardbound  boys  the  ladies  of  that  then 
small  village  hastily  made  a  table  of  goods  boxes, 
and  on  it  spread  such  articles  of  food  as  their  meager 
larders  could  supply.  Placed  in  the  shade  of  the 
oaks  and  surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  charming  women 
it  was  a  pretty  sight,  such  a  one  as  the  poor  fellows 


A  LONG  AND  JOLLY  RIDE 


223 


had  not  seen  in  many  a  day.  Never  did  men  eat 
more  heartily  or  ravenously.  The  ladies  smiled  as 
they  watched  the  performance,  and  doubtless  ex- 
cused the  boys  for  their  want  of  politeness  in  not 
leaving  a  crumb  or  scarcely  a  bone  on  the  table. 

"It  never  rains  that  it  doesn't  pour,"  is  sometimes 
as  true  of  pleasures  as  of  trou- 
bles.     Immediately   after   the 
good    breakfast   came   a   long 
ride  which  was  as  unexpected 
as   it  was  joyous  and  restful. 
On  account  of  the  devastations 
wrought  by  first  one  army  and 
then  by  the  other  the  railroad 
running  through  Opelika 
to  Montgomery  had  not 
been    in    use   for  some 
time.    Parts  of  the  track 
and  many  of  the  bridges 
were   destroyed,   and 
what  remained  of  the 
track  was   in   places 
nearly    hi  d  d  e  n    by 
growing    grass     and 
weeds. 

At  Opelika 
one  old  rick- 


224     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

ety  box  car  was  left,  and  Nick,  noticing  that  the 
roadbed  had  a  considerable  down  grade,  said,  "Boys, 
let's  put  our  coats  and  blankets  in  this  car,  shove 
her  off,  and  take  a  ride."  The  suggestion  was  ac- 
cepted with  great  hilarity. 

In  went  the  luggage  and  off  went  the  car.  When 
once  well  started  on  the  downgrade  it  was  propelled 
by  the  force  of  gravity;  then  the  men  leaped  into 
and  upon  it.  The  further  it  went  the  greater  was  its 
speed,  so  that  its  momentum  at  the  end  of  the  down- 
grade carried  it  far  up  the  next  upgrade.  The  riders 
were  in  a  fever  of  excitement.  The  episode  thrilled 
them  with  delight  and  with  suggestions  and  expecta- 
tions of  greater  things. 

At  once  it  was  agreed  "to  charter  the  train"  for 
the  rest  of  the  trip,  push  it  along  at  the  upgrades  and 
ride  in  it  over  the  downgrades.  Fortunately  Opelika 
has  a  much  greater  elevation  than  Montgomery; 
knowing  this,  Nick  exclaimed,  "Boys,  there  is  going 
to  be  more  riding  than  pushing." 

"Attention!"  ordered  Mac.  "I  move  we  elect 
Nick  conductor."  The  motion  having  prevailed, 
Nick  took  charge  and  immediately  issued  General 
Order,  No.  I: 

I.  The  battalion  will  be  formed  into  two  equal 
squads;  and  the  squads  will  go  on  duty  alternately 
every  half  hour. 


A  LONG  AND  JOLLY  RIDE  225 

II.  Sergeant  Guthrie  *  is  hereby  appointed  Adju- 
tant; he  will  proceed  at  once  to  form  the  squads  and 
put  the  caravan  agoing. 

Yielding  to  the  united  pushing  of  about  twenty- 
five  men  the  train  rolled  along  slowly  until  it  reached 
the  next  downgrade;  then,  with  all  hands  aboard, 
it  moved  off  as  if  imbued  with  life,  singing  faster  and 
faster  its  cheerful  song  of  "  clat-er-te-rack,  clat-er-te- 
rack"  as  it  went  diving  through  the  deep  cuts  and 
sailing  over  the  high  embankments.  It  was  a  jolly 
affair,  and  what  the  car  lacked  of  making  as  much 
noise  as  any  other  train  was  more  than  made  up  by 
the  laughing  and  yelling  of  the  "passengers." 

There  had  been  no  traffic  on  this  road  for  several 
weeks,  and  the  people  living  along  the  quiet  route, 
as  one  can  well  imagine,  were  startled  by  such  an 
unusual  racket  and  appalling  uproar.  They  rushed 
out  of  houses  and  fields  to  see  what  it  was,  and 
having  ascertained  the  cause  enjoyed  the  frolic 
as  much  as  the  boys  themselves.  As  the  singular 
phenomenon,  having  "no  pushee  and  no  pullee," 
approached  Loachapoka  a  crowd  was  seen  gathering 
at  the  depot.  Responding  to  a  signal  from  the  crowd 
the  speed  of  the  car  was  slackened,  and  in  the  midst 
of  much  cheering  and  waving  of  hats  and  hand- 

*  Guthrie  was  the  old  hospital  steward,  and  the  only  man  in  the  party 
who  had  even  the  semblance  of  a  watch. 


226     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

kerchiefs,  the  "train"  rolled  slowly  up  to  the  station. 
The  boys  were  now  standing  on  top  of  the  car,  and 
between  them  and  the  crowd  there  opened  up  a 
regular  fusillade — not  one  of  firearms,  but  of  ques- 
tions, answers,  jokes,  and  expressions  of  good  will. 

Before  leaving  this  pleasant  place  the  travelers 
were  informed  of  the  destruction  of  the  bridge  over 
the  river  a  few  miles  ahead  of  them.  This  timely 
warning  probably  saved  their  lives,  for  it  was  down- 
grade all  the  way  from  there  to  the  river. 

Many  years  after  that  event,  Nick  met  an  old 
man  who  lived  in  that  locality.  He  (the  old  man) 
related  the  incident,  and  turning  to  Nick  said, 

"By  the  way,  it  has  just  occurred  to  me  that  they 
were  from  your  state,  and  no  doubt  you  have  heard 
of  the  event  before." 

"Yes,  my  friend,"  said  Nick,  "that  was  the  only 
train  of  which  I  ever  had  the  honor  of  being  the  con- 
ductor." 

MORE  SURPRISES 

A  few  miles  east  of  Montgomery  is  Mount  Meigs, 
and  near  this  little  village  "Company  Q,"  as  our 
happy-go-lucky  wayfarers  styled  themselves,  came 
upon  a  mulberry  orchard.  It  appeared  to  contain 
several  acres,  and  the  trees  bore  a  harvest  of  tempt- 


MORE  SURPRISES 


227 


ing  ripe  fruit.  Never  had  the  boys  seen  a  cultivated 
crop  of  that  kind  before,  and  to  them  a  special 
feature  of  the 
novelty  was  the 
varied  colors  of 
the  berries. 

But  however 
attractive  the 
scene  to  the  eyes 
of  that  hungry 
crowd  it  was  their 
stomachs  that 
were  most  interested  in  the  outlook.  As  a  rule,  they 
did  not  enter  gardens  without  leave;  but  on  that  oc- 
casion the  writer  does  not  remember  whether  they 
obtained  permission  to  invade  the  orchard  or  not. 
He  does  recall  a  statement  by  Tom  14  as  they  resumed 
their  journey:  "Boys,  I  loaded  up  to  the  guards, 
then  put  up  the  sideboards  and  took  on  nearly  as 
much  more." 

Another  pleasant  surprise  of  the  trip  happened  at 
Montgomery.  On  applying  to  the  Federal  officer 
in  charge  at  that  place  "Company  Q"  was  given 
free  passage  on  a  boat  down  the  Alabama  River  to 
Mobile.  This  was  a  great  relief,  as  it  promised  to 
shorten  the  long  tramp  by  several  hundred  miles. 
Although  the  passage  would  be  on  the  hurricane 

STORIES    OF   DIXIE. — 15 


228     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

deck  it  was  better  than  tramping  in  hot  weather 
through  the  dust  and  sand. 

"Mac,"  said  Nick,  "some  of  these  Yankees  are 
right  good  fellows  after  all." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mac,  "I  reckon  that,  on  the  whole, 
they  are  just  about  as  good  and  as  bad  as  we  are. 
It  is  hard  to  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us." 

"There  is  something  harder  to  do  than  that,  Mac, 
and  that  is  to  reason  correctly  and  justly  when  one's 
interests  and  prejudices  are  involved." 

B-O-O-M!  The  boat  quivered  and  the  glass 
rattled. 

"What  was  that?"  was  asked  by  several  in  chorus. 

"It  was  an  explosion  of  some  kind,"  said  Tom,15 
"and  it  seemed  to  be  at  some  point  ahead  of  us, 
probably  Mobile." 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Tom,"  14  I  am  somewhat  used 
to  great  noises,  but  that  beats  any  I  ever  heard,  not 
excepting  the  bursting  of  the  "Lady  Polk"  at  Co- 
lumbus, Kentucky.  My!  That,  certainly,  was  a 
golly- whopper.  The  earth  trembled  as  if  riven  by  an 
earthquake." 

On  arriving  at  Mobile  it  was  learned  that  in  moving 
the  ammunition  surrendered  by  General  Taylor  a 
loaded  bomb  was  dropped,  and  its  bursting  resulted 
in  the  explosion  of  many  tons  of  powder.  All  over 
the  city  sheds  were  shaken  down  and  panes  of  glass 


THE  GULF  AND  ITS  TRIBUTARY        229 

crashed  by  the  concussion,  and  many  people  were 
said  to  have  been  buried  under  the  ruins. 

THE  GULF  AND  ITS  CHIEF  TRIBUTARY 

He  was  a  shrewd  if  not  a  wise  man  who  said,  "I 
don't  often  meet  with  disappointment,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  expect  much 
from  people."  This  accords  with  the  beatitude, 
"Blessed  is  the  man  who  expects  nothing,  for  he 
shall  not  be  disappointed."  Company  Q,  being  thus 
blessed,  was  prepared  for  a  cheerful  acceptance  of 
whatever  fell  to  its  lot,  be  it  a  comfort  or  a  discom- 
fort. This  was  nowhere  more  fully  exemplified  than 
in  its  voyage  across  the  Gulf. 

The  Federal  officer  in  charge  readily  gave  the  men 
an  order  for  transportation  by  boat  to  New  Orleans, 
and  in  doing  so  pleasantly  remarked,  "I  am  treating 
you  fellows  to  a  delightful  sea  voyage." 

"For  which  we  sincerely  thank  you,"  ventured 
Mac. 

"When  you  go  aboard,"  said  he,  "if  you  see  cause 
to  withdraw  your  thanks  remember  it  is  the  best 
we  can  do  to-day  in  the  way  of  a  boat.  However," 
continued  he  with  a  broad  smile  on  his  frank  face, 
"I  guess  it  is  good  enough  for  you  rebels." 

Mac,  seeing  that  he  was  chock-full  of  humor  and 


230     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

believing  that  no  man  thus  equipped  can  be  very 
narrow  or  sensitive,  retorted,  "Captain,  we  now  see 
it  is  not  true,  as  we  have  long  been  led  to  believe, 
that  a  smile  on  a  Yankee's  face  is  so  unfamiliar  to 
his  features  that  they  don't  know  how  to  manage  it." 
At  which  the  captain  and  all  his  office  crew  joined 
the  "rebels"  in  a  prolonged  and  hearty  laugh. 

"That's  a  splendid  fellow,"  said  Tom,17  as  the 
boys  walked  away. 

On  boarding  the  vessel  it  was  seen  to  be  old  and 
dilapidated;  and  worse  still,  the  great  explosion  of 
the  day  before  had  blown  off  the  top  of  one  of  the 
wheelhouses. 

"Hello,  Mac!    How  about  the  thanks?" 

"They  stand,"  said  Mac.  "This  is  far  better  than 
we're  used  to,  and  as  for  safety  that  officer  is  of  the 
kind  that  would  never  send  men  where  he  would 
not  go  himself,  I  don't  care  if  he  is  a  Yankee." 

As  usual  the  "berth"  assigned  the  fellows  was  the 
hurricane  deck,  "thus  honoring  us  as  preferred 
guests,"  said  the  witty  Ben,  "by  putting  us  above 
everybody  else."  The  big  bell  tapped,  the  great  wheel 
began  churning  the  water,  and  the  old  craft  glided  out 
to  sea.  As  she  got  more  and  more  under  good  head- 
way the  water  spouted  higher  and  higher  through 
the  top  of  the  wheelhouse  and  poured  right  into  .the 
berth  of  Company  Q. 


THE  GULF  AND  ITS  TRIBUTARY         231 

"Boys,"  again  spoke  Ben,  "  that  officer  was  even 
more  thoughtful  of  our  welfare  than  we  supposed; 
he  knew  we  all  needed  a  good  washing.  Think  of 
it,  a  salt  water  bath!" 

Now  and  then  brisk  gales  made  violent  onsets 
against  the  falling  streams  of  water,  and  drove  them 
in  tiny  jets  or  spray  in  every  direction.  However, 
here  and  there  were  places  un  invaded  by  jet  or 
spray,  and  in  these  dry  spots  the  passengers  huddled 
like  cattle  in  the  shade  of  a  lone  tree.  Under 
such  conditions  the  wanton  expenditure  of  pent- 
up  energy  was  bound  to  break  loose.  And  at  it  they 
went — songs,  jokes,  pranks,  and  stunts  of  many 
descriptions.  For  hilarity,  this  water  trip  was  un- 
surpassed even  by  the  land  trip  on  the  "crazy 
train." 

A  black  waiter  slipped  away  from  below  and  came 
up  to  enjoy  the  show.  He  was  at  home  "wid  dese 
white  boys,"  for  he  had  romped  with  their  kind  on 
many  a  similar  frolic.  The  boys  "took  him  in"  at 
once,  for  they  also  knew  his  kind.  Sam  Jones  says: 
"Shooting  at  birds  with  blank  cartridges  is  just 
about  as  amusing  to  the  birds  as  to  the  boys." 
"Henry"  was  just  the  target  the  boys  wanted  for  a 
good  old  time  like  they  used  to  have  around  the 
"swimming  hole";  and  while  the  jokes  were  pretty 
rough  on  Henry,  he  would  have  been  disappointed— 


232     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

positively  aggrieved — had  he  not  received  just  such 
a  mark  of  distinguished  consideration. 

"Is  yu  all  got  enny  good  water  fur  to  drink?" 
asked  Henry. 

"No,"  said  a  dozen  voices. 

"Den  I'se  gwine  to  fetch  yu  sum,  but  don't  yu 

let  dem  gent'men 
down  dar  know 
'bout  it." 

So  Company  Q 
was  supplied  with 
abundance  of  fresh 
cool  water.  As  for 
food,  the  situation 
was  thus  told  by 
Ben:  "If  we  ob- 
served the  same  Godlike  temperance  in  all  things 
that  we  do  in  eating  we  might  be  canonized  for 
saints." 

The  next  morning  a  loud  and  long  huzza  rent  the 
air  as  the  dark  line  of  the  Louisiana  shore  rose  above 
the  sea.  Eyes  beamed  with  delight,  and  here  and 
there  a  rough  hand  brushed  off  a  tear  trickling  down 
a  bronzed  cheek.  The  party  boarded  the  old  Pont- 
chartrain  Railroad,  along  which  the  infant  Nick 
had  been  carried  just  twenty  years  before.  Ragged, 
hungry,  and  penniless,  they  landed  in  the  heart  of 


THE  GULF  AND  ITS  TRIBUTARY         233 

the  great  metropolis.  Not  knowing  what  else  to  do, 
they  established  "temporary  quarters"  in  an  old 
vacant  cotton  shed.  But  they  were  not  long  alone. 
The  ladies,  ever  on  the  lookout  for  homeward  bound 
Confederates,  began  moving  in  that  direction,  and 
they  were  not  of  the  kind  who  are  so  much  like  men 
that  men  often  forget  what  is  due  them  as  women. 

Embarrassed  by  their  own  unsightly  garb  the 
first  impulse  of  the  men  on  seeing  the  ladies  was  to 
hide.  While  "fine  feathers  make  fine  birds,"  the  re- 
verse is  not  always  true.  Despite  the  aspects  of  raga- 
muffins, these  boys  were  gentlemen  born  and  bred. 
Those  elegant  ladies,  having  no  less  of  bonhomie 
than  refinement,  put  the  men  at  ease.  By  their 
words  and  manners  the  boys  came  to  feel  that  they 
were  the  more  appreciated  for  the  very  hardships 
of  which  they  bore  ample  testimony.  They  were 
shown  to  a  lavatory,  where  they  had  the  joy  and 
privilege  of  bathing  like  gentlemen.  Then  followed 
a  meal  consisting  of  such  articles  of  food  as  the  ladies 
already  had  prepared.  Throughout  the  war  the 
women  of  New  Orleans  were  widely  known  for  their 
Spartan  valor,  trueness  to  the  cause,  and  kindnesses 
to  Confederate  soldiers. 

Early  in  the  war,  coffee  was  sometimes  issued  to 
the  men.  No  company  ever  had  more  than  one  or 
two  coffee  mills,  and  of  course  these  sooner  or  later 


234     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 


became  very  dull.  One  Sunday  morning  Jim  was 
sitting  on  a  log  trying  to  grind  coffee  on  a  worn-out 
machine. 

To  one  of  the  men  passing  by  he  exclaimed,  "Mat,18 

this    is  a   very    in- 
dustrious mill." 

"How  do  you 
make  that  out, 
Jim?" 

"When  it  gets 
done  with  one  grain 
it  starts  on  another." 

Likewise,  Company  Q,  on  boarding  a  boat  to  go 
up  the  river,  might  have  said,  "When  we  get  done 
with  one  hurricane  deck  we  start  on  another." 

The  old  Mississippi  again !  What  a  train  of  memo- 
ries the  sight  of  it  awakened!  Much  of  the  soldiering 
of  these  veterans  had  been  spent  on  its  banks.  Of 
Columbus,  Island  No.  10,  New  Madrid,  Fort  Pillow, 
Memphis,  Vicksburg,  and  Port  Hudson  they  had 
feeling  recollections — pleasant  and  unpleasant.  At 
all  these  points  they  had  seen  their  comrades  struck 
down  by  bullets  or  disease.  But  recollections  of  the 
battle's  roar  and  the  funeral  march  were  mollified 
by  remembrances  of  many  a  frolic  on  land  and  in 
the  water. 

Up  the  Mississippi  they  went,  thence  up  the  Red 


THE  HOME  STRETCH  235 

and  Ouachita  Rivers  into  northern  Louisiana.  Here 
and  there  one,  two,  or  more  of  them  left  the  boat 
as  they  reached  their  respective  landing  places.  With 
each  departure  there  were  cordial  handshakes  and 
many  a  "God  bless  you"  uttered  in  broken  voices 
and  with  tear-moistened  eyes.  Among  the  last  to 
leave  the  boat  was  a  party  of  about  fifteen,  including 
Nick,  who  landed  at  the  old  town  of  Trenton  late 
in  the  afternoon.  The  place  was  about  sixty  miles 
from  their  homes,  but  this  "short  distance"  was 
considered  an  easy  two-days'  walk. 

THE  HOME  STRETCH 

In  the  piny  woods  twelve  miles  from  Trenton  is 
a  beautiful  branch,  to  which  the  crowd  at  once 
started,  cheered  by  the  prospects  of  a  refreshing  bath 
in  its  clear  running  water.  The  walk  was  strenuous, 
and  after  the  bath  they  slept  soundly  on  the  green 
sward  beneath  the  trees.  With  clean  skins  and  empty 
stomachs  their  homeward  tramp  was  resumed  early 
in  the  morning.  Near  Douglas  they  halted,  and 
while  resting  in  the  shade  of  an  oak,  Nick  said: 

"Boys,  here  we  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways, 
The  Forest  Grove  chaps— Mark,19  Tom,17  William,20 
and  I — will  now  leave  the  main  road  and  take  a 
short  cut  to  our  homes." 


236     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 


A  shadow  of  sadness  fell  over  "this  last  assembly," 
and  for  the  time  there  was  little  talking,  no  joking, 
no  hilarity.  After  a  bit  Mac  flashed  into  the  cloud 
of  gloom  a  ray  of  light  and  cheer  with  the  sug- 
gestion : 

"Boys,  let  us  now  agree  that  when  any  one  of 
us  gets  married  all  the  others  will 
be  expected  to  attend,  without 
further  invitation." 

The  motion  was  received  with 
cheers,  and  unanimously  adopted; 
and  in  the  months  and  years  which 
followed  Nick  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  nearly  everyone  of  the 
party  promoted  from  a  celibate 
to  a  benedict.  Many  of  the  mem- 
bers of  that  "last  assembly"  have 
crossed  over  the  abyss  that  sepa- 
rates time  and  eternity.  Of  the 
few  still  living  are  Tom15,  Mat18, 
and  Tom  14. 

The  next  day  Nick's  party 
reached  the  old 
Cane  Ridge  and 
Homer  road — that 
along  which  Nick 
and  Step  had  played 


THE  HOME  STRETCH  237 

a  long  time  ago  (see  page  84).  Near  the  cabin  in 
which  they  had  taken  refuge  from  the  storm, 
Nick  lay  down  in  the  shade  and  stretched  out  his 
weary  limbs  on  the  soft  grassy  sward.  On  a  bush 
near  by  a  wren  piped  its  old-time  song,  and  perched 
on  the  knot  of  a  tall  dead  pine  a  woodpecker  beat 
a  faultless  long  roll.  "Jay,  jay,  jay!"  chanted  a 
blue  jay  in  a  great  hickory  tree,  while  the  breeze- 
swept  pines  filled  the  air  with  a  soft  melody  not 
unlike  the  hum  of  a  swarming  colony  of  bees.  These 
notes  of  the  woods,  so  familiar  to  Nick  in  his  boyhood 
days,  started  within  him  a  responsive  train  of 
memories : 

"Nowhere  in  all  my  ups  and  downs  has  life  been  so 
joyous,  so  blithe,  and  so  worth  while  as  amid  the 
scenes  along  this  road  and  the  two  old  plantations 
it  connects.  They  now  hover  over  and  envelop  me 
like  a  delicate  fragrance.  The  remembrance  of  other 
events  may  stir  my  heart,  but  the  memory  of  these 
alone  stirs  my  soul.  Here  all  things  that  have  been 
most  important  in  my  life  had  their  beginning.  When 
first  I  traveled  this  road  my  great  desire  was  to  see 
the  new  place;  now  the  oldness  of  the  same  place 
appeals  to  me  as  the  newness  of  it  never  did." 

Continued  he,  "The  glory  of  war!  What  a  strange 
hallucination!  Except  for  the  toil,  sacrifice,  and 
suffering  that  men  endure  for  an  ideal  it  is  a  misnomer, 


238     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

misconception,  mockery.  How  few  of  the  struggling 
troops  ever  think  of  the  ideals,  how  many  know 
nothing  of  the  great  underlying  causes.  Reason! 
In  the  tenets  and  doings  of  war  is  a  strange  place  to 
look  for  it.  One  might  as  well  expect  to  find  sweet- 
ness in  a  crowd  of  boys  tussling  for  pennies.  Often 
has  a  battle  reminded  me  of  the  fight  between  the 
dogs  and  the  cat  (page  27).  With  little  thought  of 
ideals  and  causes,  mastery  was  the  end  aimed  at 
and  the  arts  of  primitive  instincts  the  means  em- 
ployed. War  settles  only  questions  of  might,  and 
it  is  a  sad  commentary  on  civilization  that  quarrels 
between  states  and  nations  are  not  adjusted  by  ar- 
bitration." 

It  was  the  seventh  day  of  June,  1865 — the  thirty- 
fifth  and  last  day  of  the  long  tramp — and  a  little 
after  nightfall,  that  Nick  walked  up  to  the  front 
gate  of  his  dear  old  home.  For  many  weary  days 
the  home  folks  had  been  watching  for  his  coming. 
The  bark  of  an  old  hound,  now  a  stranger  to  the  boy 
who  had  raised  him,  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
unknown.  In  a  twinkling  there  was  a  rush  in  that 
direction  from  all  quarters.  Here  came  the  whites, 
the  blacks,  and  the  dogs,  each  one  making  a  racket 
of  some  character.  In  the  midst  of  the  uproar, 
with  the  arms  of  his  three  sisters  about  him,  Nick 
heard  Uncle  Wash  say,  "My  son!  We  are  so  glad 


THE  HOME  STRETCH 


239 


*& 


to  see  you!"  which,  as  Nick  knew,  was  far  for  his 
father  to  go  in  the  way  of  a  demonstrative  greeting. 
The  darkies  politely  stood  aloof  until  the  saluta- 
tions of  the  whites  had  somewhat  abated.  -..«,.  y 
Good  Old  Uncle  Nathan,  unable  to  re- 
strain himself  longer,  burst  in,  and  seiz- 
ing Nick  by  the  arms,  exclaimed,  "Bless 
de  Lawd  fur  all  his  mercies;  de  boy  is 
cum  back  to  us  er  man."  Aunt  Gallic, 
Nick's  old  nurse,  came  next,  and  grasping 
his  hands  she  sobbed,  "My  dear  baby 
boy!  What  fur  you  stay  so  long? 
Yo  Gallic  ben  waitin',  watchin',  and 
prayin'  fur  yu  all 
dese  years.  My! 
What  a  big  un  my 
baby  is  got  to 


240     THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOMEWARD  TRAMP 

be !"  To  her  hand  Nick  held  fast  for  the  very  com- 
fort to  be  had  from  that  living  contact.  One  by 
one  he  shook  hands  with  all  the  darkies,  though 
so  many  of  the  younger  ones  had  grown  out  of  his 
knowledge,  he  had  often  to  ask  who  they  were. 

Later  on,  when  the  moon  was  creeping  down 
behind  the  trees,  Nick  and  his  sister  "Duck"  21  sat 
alone  on  the  front  gallery,  and  in  reverie  watched 
the  gathering  shadows.  Each  felt  that  the  other 
was  thinking  of  her  whose  absence  was  the  one  great 
blank  in  the  joy  of  Nick's  home-coming. 

"Brother,"  said  the  sister,  "her  anxiety  for  you 
and  the  other  three  boys  wore  out  her  sweet  life. 
Oh,  the  saddest  day  I  have  ever  known  was  that  in 
which  I  followed  her  dear  body  to  the  cedars  in  the 
old  churchyard." 

Somewhere  nearby  a  cricket  chirped  sadly  "as  if  it 
were  human  and  could  understand."  Likewise  sang 
the  katydids  in  an  oak  near  the  house. 

To  bring  back  the  brightness  which  had  gone  out 
of  things  Nick  went  off  on  a  new  tack, 

"Sister,  how  about  my  sleeping  to-night?  For  a 
long  time  my  bed  has  been  a  blanket  spread  on  the 
ground  with  a  chunk  under  one  end  of  it  for  a  pil- 
low. Really  I  feel  that  one  of  that  kind  out  there 
under  the  trees  would  be  the  most  comfortable 
bed  you  could  give  me." 


THE  HOME  STRETCH  241 

It  was  hard  for  him  to  convince  her  that  he  meant 
what  he  said.  At  last  she  said,  "I  wish  you  to  sleep 
in  the  house;  I  can  give  you  a  hard  mattress  and  a 
bolt  of  cottonade  for  a  pillow." 

Duck  smiled,  and  Nick  smiled  when  he  saw  her 
fixing  his  bed  that  way.  With  a  sweet  caress  she 
bade  him  good  night. 

Nick  stretched  himself  out  on  the  hard,  but  to 
him  comfortable,  bed,  and  lay  for  a  long  time  star- 
ing through  the  open  window  up  into  the  night. 
The  stars  were  shining  as  in  the  days  long  gone  by, 
but  all  else,  how  changed.  He  closed  his  eyes  and 
gradually  memories  of  the  loved  and  the  lost  sank 
to  rest  like  the  waves  at  sea  when  the  storm  is  spent. 
"Something  in  his  brain,  which  seemed  to  tick  the 
slow  movement  of  time,  came  suddenly  to  a  stop 
like  a  clock  that  has  run  down,"  and  Nick  was 
asleep. 


APPENDIX 


The  names  of  persons  called  in  the  book  by  their  nicknames  or 
by  their  Christian  names. 


1.  Judge  W.  F.  Blackman, 

Alexandria,  La. 

2.  John   A.    Traylor,   Los 

Angeles,  Cal. 

3.  Capt.    W.     A.    Miller, 

Amarillo,  Tex. 

4.  Capt.  J.  L.  Bond,  Rus- 

ton,  La. 

5.  W.  C.  Boring,  Shreve- 

port,  La. 

6.  B.     F.    Sikes,    , 

Tex. 

7.  H.  W.  Menefee,  Homer, 

La. 

8.  Maj.     J.     W.    Boring, 

Longview,  Tex. 

9.  Capt.     J.     F.    Taylor, 

Amarillo,  Tex. 

10.  James    Bernard,   

11.  S.  W.  Menefee,  Cott'on 

Valley,  Ala. 


12.  Maj.     R.     L.     Pruyn, 

Baton  Rouge,  La. 

13.  Capt.  Leon  Polk,  Bast- 

rop,  La. 

14.  T.    McEachern,    Shon- 

galoo,  La. 

15.  Hon.     A.    T.     Nelson, 

Homer,  La. 

16.  D.  McD.  Crow,  Natchi- 

touches,  La. 

17.  T.  J.  Baker,  Athens,  La. 

18.  Mat.    Haynes,    Shong- 

aloo,  La. 

19.  Dr.     M.     A.     Taylor, 

Honey  Grove,  Tex. 

20.  Wm.  Martin,  Sherman, 

Tex. 

21.  Mrs.     J.     W.     Willis, 

Shreveport,  La. 

22.  Hon.   H.    C.    Mitchell, 

Homer,  La. 


242 


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